


Legacies

by jamelia116, juli17ptf, Voyager_Virtual Season_7-5_Staff_Writers (jamelia116)



Series: Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 [6]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Culture, F/M, Klingon, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 12:52:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19209826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/jamelia116, https://archiveofourown.org/users/juli17ptf/pseuds/juli17ptf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/Voyager_Virtual%20Season_7-5_Staff_Writers
Summary: B'Elanna Torres is shocked when she learns she is pregnant by her husband Tom Paris. They'd expected to have trouble conceiving, since he's 100% human and B'Elanna is a Klingon/human hybrid. Becoming pregnant was easier than they expected, but difficult childhood experiences may drive a wedge between the expectant parents.Voyager Virtual Season 7.5's alternate view of events that occurred in the TV series episodes "Lineage"  and "Prophecy."





	1. Legacies I: Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek: Voyager, and our writing group does not. Thanks are due to James Kahn, who wrote "Lineage." Although a Cardassian ship found its way into the Delta Quadrant during VVS7.5, not a Klingon one, we also acknowledge our debt to Larry Nemecek & J. Kelley Burke and Raf Green & Kenneth Biller for the story of "Prophecy," and to Mike Sussman & Phyllis Strong, who wrote the teleplay. We won't claim we wrote what we did not--we've just got a little alternate universe thing going on here on Voyager Season 7.5.
> 
> The guiding principal of Season 7.5 was to keep those elements of Voyager's final season which remained true to the original series concept, while we "fixed" those elements we felt caused the series to go astray during its final year.
> 
> Although Julie and Jamelia enjoyed how B'Elanna Torres and Thomas Paris came together (finally!) and became man and wife in "Drive" (an episode that is accepted as part of Season 7.5's canon), their marriage truly may be said to have begun in "Lineage." To those who wished we had ditched "Lineage": we're sorry, but there was too much good in the episode for us to do that. Hopefully, you can enjoy "Legacies" for the way the not-so-good was handled by us. 
> 
> The End Note discusses our rationale for revising "Lineage" rather than writing a completely different scenario for the expansion of the Paris/Torres family.

Their mission had been a brief one, taking only the better part of the day, but it had been immensely successful, at least to hear B'Elanna and Seven tell it.

 

"It's over ninety-nine percent pure." B'Elanna's voice held a bit of awe as she punched numbers into a PADD. "That's almost unheard of."

 

"Ninety-nine point two six percent, to be precise."

 

It was an indication of B'Elanna's intense concentration that she didn't react to Seven's correction.

 

"Only one point six percent of diallo-silicate approaches that level of purity," Icheb chimed in as he crouched down next to Seven and B'Elanna.

 

"Imagine how well this will bond with our raw dilithium."

 

Tom shook his head at his B'Elanna's excited tone. "It's not like we permanently solved all our energy needs."

 

"No, but it will make our dilithium crystals last twice as long."

 

Tom looked at Harry, who was manning the co-pilot's seat in the Delta Flyer. "Mission accomplished." The pilot glanced back at the others. "We always manage to find what we need. What's the big deal?"

 

Seven gave Tom a cool stare, and B'Elanna glowered good-naturedly at him. "Just drive, Tom."

 

Tom returned his wife's smirk. "Okaaay." He turned back to the helm and entered a minor course correction. "By the way, Icheb, I added your upgrades to my race car program. You were right about the engine performance. I tried out the hairpin course and beat my best time by 27 seconds."

 

Icheb handed Seven the last sample they'd scanned. "I believe I can surpass my best time by at least 30 seconds. I have Holodeck 1 reserved for tomorrow night."

 

"You keep practicing, and you might even beat me one day," Tom said, though he didn't believe it for a minute.

 

"I will surpass your time one day," Icheb said confidently. "It is only a matter of which day."

 

Harry chuckled as Tom raised his eyebrows. "Maybe I'll join you tomorrow night, Icheb. Tom's record can't be too hard to beat."

 

"Racing in an antiquated carburetor-based vehicle is a pointless endeavor," Seven told Icheb before Tom could reply to Harry's deliberate baiting. "There are more productive endeavors you could pursue in your off duty hours."

 

"It's not pointless if it's fun," Tom said, not particularly offended by Seven's judgment. They'd had this argument before. It enlivened their occasional shared navigational watches.  Seven responded right on cue. "It still serves little purpose."

 

B'Elanna rolled her eyes, though her attention remained on the sample she was replacing in the storage container. "Everything doesn't have to serve a purpose, Seven."

 

"Besides, it does serve a purpose," Tom said. "You only live once, and the real goal is to enjoy yourself. I like my job, but I don't want to spend all my time doing only that." He glanced at B'Elanna. "There are other things I enjoy more."

 

"According to my studies on humanoid physiology, 'play' is an important element of mental and physical well-being for most species."

 

Tom nodded. "Exactly, Icheb. All work and no play makes for a dull existence."

 

B'Elanna looked at Tom. "I know there are times when I'm in the mood to... play."

 

Tom grinned at his wife's suggestive tone, and Harry groaned.

 

"Alternating periods of recreation also improves work efficiency," Icheb added, completely missing the innuendo.

 

"That must be why my department had such a high efficiency rating in your last audit, Seven," Tom said, with no modesty whatsoever.

 

Seven's eyebrow rose. "I doubt that is the causative factor behind the helm department's efficiency, Lieutenant Paris. However I will concede that your propensity for unproductive and frequently juvenile holoprograms does not appear to have had a critical impact upon your job performance."

 

Harry snickered, and Tom smirked at him. "I wouldn't laugh too hard, 'Buster.' "

 

"That's the last sample," B'Elanna announced, sealing the container. She rose from her crouching position. "We can finish the..."

 

"Lieutenant Torres!"

 

Tom whirled around at Icheb's exclamation, just in time to see Seven and Icheb catch B'Elanna as she fell. They guided her to the nearest chair, and lowered her into it.

 

"Harry, take the conn."

 

Tom didn't wait for Harry's answer. He was at B'Elanna's side by the time she stirred. He knelt next to her as she mumbled something incoherent. "Icheb, get the medical scanner from the storage locker."

 

B'Elanna sat up straighter, shaking her head as if to clear it. "What happened?"

 

"You fainted for a few seconds," Tom said, touching her cheek. She wasn't feverish.

 

B'Elanna snorted, though it was half-hearted. "That's ridiculous!"

 

"During periods of illness or extreme fatigue it is not uncommon for Klingons to experience a drop in blood pressure, resulting in unconsciousness," Seven stated.

 

B'Elanna scowled at her. "I'm only half Klingon. And I'm not ill or fatigued."

 

Tom took the scanner from Icheb, and put a restraining hand on B'Elanna's arm as she started to rise. "Just relax while I scan you."

 

"I'm fine," B'Elanna said irritably, though she didn't try to get up again. "I probably just stood up too quickly. And I didn't eat much lunch."

 

"Or breakfast?" Tom asked, running the scanner over her. She'd left their quarters before him this morning, and he knew she sometimes didn't bother with breakfast if she was in a hurry to start her shift. He looked at the readout. "Your blood sugar is low. You need to eat more regularly, B'Elanna, and quit skipping meals-"

 

"I can handle my own eating habits, thank you..." B'Elanna's sharp rebuke trailed off as Tom looked up at her with the most astonished expression she'd ever seen on his face. "What?"

 

Tom didn't speak. He looked at the scanner again, his eyes wide, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. That alarmed B'Elanna.

 

"Tom, what's wrong?"

 

Tom shook his head slowly, sounding dazed when he finally spoke. "Nothing. I mean, it's nothing bad-"

 

"Tom!"

 

"You're pregnant."

 

"I'm...WHAT?" She couldn't have heard him right.

 

"Pregnant," Tom repeated patiently.

 

B'Elanna stared at him, stunned. "Pregnant?" she squeaked, her voice suddenly small. "How...?"

 

Tom's lips quirked a little, though he still couldn't quite believe it himself. "The usual way, I'd say."

 

The silence in the Delta Flyer lasted for several moments as B'Elanna and Tom looked at each other intently, both trying to take it in. It was Seven who finally spoke. "You appear surprised by this development. Did you not intend to conceive a child?" she asked, her tone curious and slightly disapproving.

 

"Of course, we did." Tom kept his gaze on B'Elanna. "That's why we discontinued our contraceptive boosters. But the Doctor told us the likelihood of human-Klingon conception was extremely low. We didn't expect it to happen this soon." Or perhaps ever, not without medical intervention. "It's a bit of a surprise." That was an understatement. "But a wonderful one."

 

"Are you sure?" B'Elanna's voice was soft, and a little uncertain.

 

Tom dropped a hand on her knee. "Absolutely." His wide smile left no doubt of that. He was going to be a father. The idea delighted him.

 

B'Elanna covered his hand with hers and smiled slowly back.

 

"Congratulations," Harry said, with complete sincerity. "Though I can't say I'm all that surprised you beat those odds, given your level of, er, activity. That had to improve your chances."

 

Tom couldn't help grinning at Harry's chutzpah, though B'Elanna gave Harry a reproving frown.

 

"I guess we'll all have to be careful now," Harry added. He winked at Icheb. "Pregnancy might be contagious."

 

Icheb's brow furrowed. "That is not possible with single-cell fertilization."

 

Harry glanced at Seven, who gave him a shrewd look. "Uh, I was just joking, Icheb," he said, trying not to blush at the reminder of the last time he'd discussed single-cell fertilization with a former Borg.

 

Tom, too preoccupied to pay much attention to the conversation around him, turned off the medical scanner. "We'll go to Sickbay and see the Doctor as soon as we get back on Voyager."

 

B'Elanna nodded silently, more acquiescent than usual to the idea of visiting Sickbay.

 

"Speaking of which, Harry..."

 

Harry looked at Tom.

 

"You might want to correct our course, or we're going to crash into the bridge instead of landing in the shuttlebay."

 

Harry followed Tom's gaze to where Voyager was now visible through the front viewscreen. "Oh. Right." He'd never understood Tom's uncanny ability to see those minute deflections with only his eyes, but the computer verified it, and he quickly entered the correction. "Delta Flyer to Voyager. We're on final approach."

 

Tom and B'Elanna continued to smile at each other bemusedly as the Delta Flyer approached Voyager, both trying to wrap their minds around the unexpected curve their lives were about to take.

 

 

 


	2. Legacies I: Act 1

Act 1 

 

Thanks to the vigilant and persistent interest of the Doctor, Icheb had been as diligent in studying humanoid single-cell reproduction as he had the manipulation of genetic material to eliminate inherited diseases and obtain desirable traits in offspring -- not that he had actually spent much time considering what that might mean to him personally. Since he had once had a fleeting rivalry with Lieutenant Paris because of Lieutenant Torres's brief attachment to him, however, Icheb found himself thinking about the subject quite a bit during the trip back to Voyager.

 

Lieutenant Paris was very solicitous of his wife's well-being, asking her several times if she were comfortable, or if she were dizzy, or if she might want something to eat or a drink of water. In fact, Lieutenant Paris had twice requested that Icheb bring Lieutenant Torres a glass of water during the brief journey back to Voyager, even though she had specified that she did not need anything to drink at that particular time. Fortunately, her glare was not directed towards Icheb when he complied with the pilot's requests, but rather fastened unblinkingly upon her husband. Icheb also noted the softening of her features when she sipped the water, however, and the small, almost secretive smile that followed. The fluctuation in her emotional state during the ingestion of two unflavored glasses of water was quite fascinating. Even in the earliest stages of its development, the child appeared to be changing the relationship of the two lieutenants in a most profound way.

 

Except for his brief flirtation with Lieutenant Torres, Icheb had never considered anyone on board Voyager as a likely romantic partner. He was much younger than the entire crew. Now that Mezoti, Azan and Rebi had left Voyager for homes provided by the people of a friendly planet, as had happened previously with the little unnamed Borg baby, the only one younger than Icheb was Naomi. She was too young for him, of course, since she was about ten Federation standard years younger than he, about the same difference as Icheb's age in relation to the youngest of Voyager's crew.

 

The actual difference in their ages was somewhat debatable. Icheb's parents had not confirmed his birthdate during the brief, bittersweet time he had spent with them before they sent him off as a sacrifice to the Borg in a second attempt to destroy the Collective, via a deadly virus they had placed in his DNA through their knowledge of gene resequencing. Icheb's growth had been accelerated to an unknown degree in the Borg maturation chamber, as well, but since he had spent only a short time there, he did not believe it had made a great difference.

 

The closest Seven and the Doctor had been able to come to establishing an age for Icheb in Federation standard years was 16 years, 2 months, with a possible deviation of 3 months. If this were true, it was clear that while Naomi was still very much a child, Icheb was an adult, albeit a youthful one. In fact, Naomi had become like Mezoti had been to him, a very dear little sister. At some date far, far in the future, the wide gap in age between Naomi and himself might be less imposing, but he could never imagine Naomi ever being other than a good friend.

 

Thinking about his isolation from the rest of the crew  disturbed his equilibrium. This was not only due to the age difference. He was the only representative of the Brunali, a Delta Quadrant race that now was far behind Voyager's course in its journey towards the Alpha Quadrant. Recalling the virus lurking in his body, and how it got there, never failed to depress his efficiency rating. While its presence suggested that he himself might not have been conceived in "the usual way," as Lieutenant Paris had jokingly observed, there was nothing intrinsically wrong about such an origin. People of differing races often had to resort to such means in order to reproduce, as Lieutenants Paris and Torres had apparently thought would be necessary in their case. Icheb was pleased they had been successful by using "the usual way," without the need to tamper with their child's inheritance the way his own parents had done.

 

Icheb went to the replicator and procured himself a glass of water to fill the sudden hollowness he detected in his abdominal area. He then turned his full attention upon his console during their final approach to the shuttle bay, studying the sensor readings with great care to banish his musings from his mind. He did not want to think about his parents. Ensign Kim had everything under control, however, and he could not totally keep his attention from wandering to the subject of reproduction as practiced in "the usual way," more or less, by all of the races represented on Voyager. To his surprise, this did not prevent him from being very discomforted, for visualizing the act was strangely provoking. It did not help that he could not easily imagine any partner for himself in this endeavor. And when he found himself thinking about the prospective parents who, from Lieutenant Torres's current condition, plainly had engaged in it, he discovered that the temperature of his facial epidermal layer raised substantially, causing a temporary change in the color of his skin tone.

 

Single-cell reproduction was, indeed, a very complicated way to obtain progeny, though apparently a desirable one-under the right circumstances -- and with the right partner, of course.

 

^*^*^*^

 

"Are you sure you don't want a site-to-site transport to Sickbay?" Lieutenant Paris asked his wife as the Delta Flyer touched down inside the shuttle bay.

 

"We could have transported to Sickbay on our final approach if we had needed to, Tom! As long as you're with me, I'm sure I can walk  there under my own power."

 

"At the first sign of trouble..."

 

"I know, I know," Icheb heard Lieutenant Torres say as they walked back, towards the exit.

 

They hesitated a moment in the doorway. "Can you take the diallo-silicate to engineering, Seven?" Lieutenant Torres asked.

 

"I will comply," Seven said, with the slight twist to her mouth that, as Icheb well knew, meant she was fully cognizant of just how much that Borg-like phrase pricked the chief engineer's temper -- under normal circumstances, at least.

 

"At least we won't be leaving you in the lurch. Reinforcements have arrived. Can you help out here? I have to get B'Elanna to the Doc."

 

"Sure," Icheb heard Naomi Wildman reply, as she stepped inside the shuttle, moving aside to allow the two lieutenants to exit.

 

"Why does Lieutenant Torres have to see the Doctor? Did something happen to her?"

 

"You could say that!" Ensign Kim laughed.

 

When the ensign did not immediately elaborate, Naomi put her hands on her hips in a perfect imitation of Captain Janeway and said firmly, as if she were in fact the "Captain's Assistant" she had once aspired to be, "What happened to Lieutenant Torres on the trip?"

 

"Well, it didn't exactly happen on the trip..."

 

At Seven's glare, Ensign Kim relented. "It looks like you won't be the only baby born on Voyager for much longer."

 

It took a second for Naomi to digest the comment before a grin lit her face. "B'Elanna is pregnant? Well, it's about time this crew got busy and had some other babies on board for everyone to spoil, if you ask me! Not that I'm a baby myself, any more," she added, with a wink in Icheb's direction.

 

With some surprise, Icheb perceived that this was true. As Naomi had allowed the lieutenants to pass by her at the Delta Flyer's door, he had noticed she was actually slightly taller than Lieutenant Torres.

 

"I'll be happy to help you with anything," Naomi said. "Did you get the diallo-silicate you were looking for?"

 

"Not in great quantity, but the quality is of a superior grade. Your assistance is not required; Ensign Kim and myself will be sufficient for the task," Seven replied. "However, there are four containers of other useful substances which we collected. They are in the lower compartment. Icheb may wish your assistance."

 

"Please," Icheb responded.

 

Naomi's smile dazzled him as she said, "Of course! Lead on!"

 

Icheb waved Naomi ahead and followed her down the steps to the lower compartment, appreciating the way her body gracefully swayed with each step. That was something he hadn't noticed before, either. When she turned to face him for further instructions in the lower compartment, he saw that her face had also changed. The childish lines of her jawbone were sharpening into the face of a woman. The Naomi in his memory -- the one he had been thinking of during the shuttle's approach to Voyager -- was actually quite different from the one before him now. Very strange, how suddenly it had happened. She must be going through another "growth spurt."

 

^*^*^*^

 

Naomi was a great deal of help. When they dropped off the canisters in engineering, Icheb's news of the chief engineer's pregnancy was received with a great deal of excitement. Tal Celes said she would go down to Deck 15 to give Mortimer Harren and the maintenance staff the news, while Susan Nicoletti, who was scheduled to man the engineering station on the bridge, said she would let everyone there know. Icheb and Naomi had been in Stellar Cartography for less than a minute, Icheb estimated, before the Delaney sisters "took a break" to "share the data" with the science labs, although Naomi had already told her mother via commbadge. By the time they arrived at the mess hall, passing crew members were asking Icheb and Naomi if they had heard "the news about Torres."

 

"Am I the last person to know about B'Elanna's delicate condition?" asked Neelix, with an aggrieved air.

 

"Maybe," Naomi teased, giving her godfather a quick, comforting hug.

 

"You should have come here first! I have a baby shower to plan."

 

"I think there's plenty of time to plan your party, Mr. Morale Officer Neelix. It's going to be a while before the baby is here!" Naomi giggled.

 

Icheb was strangely pleased by that sound, a small reminder of the child Naomi had been. Their short trip through Voyager had solidified his perception that she was no longer a child in so many ways.

 

"So, who's going to handle the betting pool about when the baby will be born?" Lieutenant Ayala asked.

 

"Don't let Tom anywhere near it! He's going to have inside information," Ensign Kim laughed.

 

As the cluster of crew gathered around Neelix rapidly grew larger and noisier, Naomi's tug upon Icheb's elbow was a welcome relief. He willingly allowed her to drag him to the far corner of the mess hall, where it was quieter and he could speak to her in relative privacy.

 

"Enough about baby showers for one day!" Naomi whispered. "I wanted to ask you about how your Starfleet instruction is working out. I've been thinking about applying to do the same thing."

 

"Aren't you a little young for that?" Icheb asked hesitantly.

 

"Not when you're Ktarian, like I am," she replied with an impish grin. "Ktarians usually become physically adult by age seven. So, it's not too early for me to consider what I want to do when I finish growing up."

 

"But you are only half Ktarian, Naomi."

 

"That's true. The Doctor says it will probably take a couple more years for me because of my human genes. He says I should enjoy my adolescence while I can, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't start planning my future, does it?"

 

He only had to think about it for a moment. "The first thing you have to do is talk with Commander Tuvok..."

 

^*^*^*^

 

As they rode the turbolift from Deck 5 to Deck 2 after their visit to Sickbay, B'Elanna and Tom at first were speechless. Tom finally broke the silence. "Are you okay about this, B'Elanna? Really?"

 

"Sure. It's just quite a surprise."

 

"Sure is."

 

"Lots of things are going to change."

 

"That's for sure."

 

"Have to get lists of names started. How do you like Kathryn if it's a girl?"

 

"I guess it *would* be wise to include the captain's name on the list."

 

B'Elanna was silent for a moment. "Tom, do you think we can keep this just to ourselves for a bit? Just until we get used to the idea ourselves?"

 

"Sure. Anything you want."

 

The doors of the turbolift opened. Before the pair could exit, Joe Carey burst out, "Congratulations, Mom! And Tom -- if you want any tips about fatherhood, I'm your guy. Sorry I can't stick around. I've got to get back down to engineering. You want me to do anything for you, B'Elanna, just ask. Watch your step there."

 

The turbolift doors closed on Joe's smiling face. Fortunately, Tom and B'Elanna were standing in the corridor outside.

 

"So much for keeping the news between us for a while," Tom said gently, noting a wave of irritation suffuse B'Elanna's face.

 

They didn't have long to wait to find out how fast the word had spread. As they walked through the doors to the mess hall, Janeway and Chakotay were on their way out.

 

"Tom, B'Elanna, congratulations!" the captain said immediately as she squeezed Tom's arm, and then hugged B'Elanna briefly.

 

"Congratulations," Chakotay echoed the captain. He clapped Tom on the shoulder, and hugged B'Elanna in turn, grinning as he released her. "If someone had told me the first day I met you, ten years ago, that one day I'd be congratulating you on impending motherhood, I would never have believed it."

 

"Me either," B'Elanna said dryly.

 

"I know you'll make a great mother, B'Elanna." Chakotay kissed her on the cheek, then smiled at Tom. "I'm happy for you both."

 

"Thanks," Tom said.

 

As Janeway and Chakotay slipped out of the mess hall Neelix rushed up, followed by Tuvok and a fairly large contingent of the crew. "Congratulations, Tom and B'Elanna! This is wonderful news! Now that Naomi has gotten so grown up, I've got lots of time to spend with a new godchild. I'm very experienced with diapers and bottles. Just ask Naomi."

 

"Neelix! Please!" Naomi groaned, her face flushing rosily, as Icheb grinned shyly by her side.

 

"Well, it's true. You're almost grown up now, but once..."

 

"Got it, Neelix," Tom agreed, taking pity on Naomi

 

"How did everyone find out so quickly?" B'Elanna asked.

 

"Were we not supposed to mention your baby to anyone, Lieutenant Torres?" Icheb asked.

 

At the sight of Icheb's distress, B'Elanna controlled her temper and shrugged off-handedly, "No, it's fine. I'm just amazed everyone found out about it so fast."

 

"It's a small ship," Naomi said, matter-of-factly.

 

As everyone else laughed, Tuvok stepped forward. "Let me extend my best wishes as well, Lieutenants."

 

"Thanks, Tuvok," Tom replied.

 

"Mister Vulcan here has four children," Neelix interjected, patting Tuvok's shoulder briefly. "I'm sure he can offer you lots of excellent advice on fatherhood, Tom."

 

Tuvok raised an eyebrow at Neelix, while Tom said, "I'll listen to any advice you can give me, Tuvok."

 

"That would be a first," Tuvok responded, and Tom grinned. "However, I am willing to offer any counsel that you would consider useful."

 

"Any words of wisdom now?" Tom asked.

 

Tuvok studied both prospective parents contemplatively. "It is paradoxical but true that while children can be disturbingly illogical, parenthood is a profoundly fulfilling experience."

 

Tom and B'Elanna looked thoughtful and a little bewildered at Tuvok's words, but before either could reply, the Doctor's voice came over the comm. _"Lieutenant Torres. Lieutenant Paris. Please report to Sickbay immediately."_

 

Tom and B'Elanna exchanged apprehensive looks at the unexpected summons. "On our way, Doctor," Tom said quickly. Silence reigned and the party atmosphere deflated as Tom and B'Elanna fled the mess hall.

 

 


	3. Legacies I:  Act 2

Act 2 

 

The holographic image of a tiny humanoid spinal column spun slowly in the air in front of Tom and B'Elanna.

 

"It's curved," Tom said. That much was certainly clear to him.

 

The Doctor nodded. "Your baby's spine has a pronounced curvature to the left. But there is a procedure that can easily correct the deviation."

 

"You mean surgery?" Tom asked warily. He looked at B'Elanna, who was staring intently at the image of the baby's rotating spine. This was their baby the Doctor was talking about.

 

"Surgery used to be the only option," the Doctor said. "But I will be doing a less invasive genetic modification procedure in utero to correct the problem."

 

"I had surgery for the same thing when I was a baby," B'Elanna said. "So did my mother."

 

Tom looked at her, surprised. She'd never told him that, though it wasn't a likely subject to come up, until now.

 

"This particular abnormality does tend to run in the female line of Klingon families, so it's not completely unexpected. Once the procedure is completed..."

 

"Wait a minute!" Tom interjected. "Doc, are you saying that our baby is a girl?" 

 

The Doctor looked stricken. They'd told him when he'd run the first scan that they didn't want to know the sex of the baby. At least, B'Elanna had been adamant, and her eyes narrowed on him now. "No, I didn't -- I said -- you're making an assumption," he finished lamely.

 

Tom smiled broadly. "It's a girl."

 

The Doctor started to protest again, but B'Elanna held up her hand. "Never mind." She gave the Doctor and her grinning husband both exasperated looks. "It's too late now."

 

"Look at it this way," Tom said happily. "Now that we know it's a girl, we'll be able to plan exactly what we need for her."

 

B'Elanna looked slightly mollified, and the Doctor took the opportunity to add his own positive observation. "The genetic modification is a very minor procedure. Otherwise your baby girl is perfectly healthy, and that is the important thing."

 

Neither Tom nor B'Elanna could argue with that. "When do you want to perform the procedure?" B'Elanna asked the Doctor.

 

"There is no reason to delay, so I suggest we schedule it at your earliest convenience."

 

"The sooner the better," B'Elanna said. It might be a minor procedure, but it was still a procedure. The sooner it was done, the sooner she wouldn't have to worry about her baby. "How about tomorrow morning?"

 

The Doctor looked at his console. "I'll schedule the surgery tomorrow at eight hundred hours."

 

"I'd like to be here, Doctor," Tom said. "I'll clear it with the captain."

 

"Tom, that isn't necessary-"

 

"I'm sure the captain won't object," the Doctor said, cutting B'Elanna off. "I'll let her know that you will both be relieved from duty until nine hundred hours."

 

"The bridge can survive without me for that long," Tom assured his wife teasingly, though his gaze on her was serious.

 

B'Elanna nodded, and looked at the Doctor. "We'll both be here tomorrow at eight hundred hours."

 

The Doctor smiled amiably at them. "Excellent. I'll also have those nutritional supplements ready, Lieutenant Torres. As I told you earlier, a hybrid human-Klingon pregnancy does create unique nutritional needs, and the supplements will compensate for any deficiency in your diet. However, it is still important that you eat regular, well-balanced meals --"

 

"I will," B'Elanna said. He'd already told her that too.

 

"I'll also prescribe something to regulate the biochemical fluctuations I mentioned, so we'll be prepared if you do begin to experience extreme emotional or behavioral volatility --"

 

"I won't."

 

The Doctor's eyebrows rose at B'Elanna's curt tone. "Beyond your average range of emotional and behavioral volatility, of course," he added dryly.

 

B'Elanna glared at the Doctor.

 

"I'm feeling emotionally volatile myself right now," Tom said. He slipped his hand in B'Elanna's, hoping she wouldn't pull hers away, as she sometimes did when she thought he was trying to placate her. It was true that his emotions weren't quite steady at the moment, and he wasn't the one carrying the baby. "It's been an eventful day. As wonderful as this news is for us, Doctor, I think we're both still a little...overwhelmed by it all."

 

The Doctor nodded, his expression more sympathetic. "That is perfectly understandable. This is certainly a major life change, and life changes are often stressful. But I assure you that medically everything is sound, and I'll make sure that remains the case. You can both concentrate your attention on preparing for your baby's arrival."

 

"Thanks, Doc," Tom said sincerely. B'Elanna's hand was still in his, and he saw her expression soften too. "We really appreciate that."

 

"Having a baby can also be a very fulfilling experience for both parents." The Doctor smiled broadly. "To assist you in that direction, I am devising a schedule to address a variety of important topics. Childbirth classes, of course, and parenting workshops that I'm sure you'll find enlightening. I am also researching a number of enrichment programs for your baby,  
including... "

 

"Can't those wait until after she's born?" Tom asked, mostly to stop the Doctor's enthusiastic monologue.

 

"Your daughter can experience emotional and intellectual stimulation in utero," the Doctor told him. "For instance, reading out loud to her will heighten her verbal and communications skills. Then there is music. Opera is an excellent source of audio-stimulation and can improve her mathematical abilities."

 

"You don't plan on actually singing to her, do you?" Tom asked in jest.

 

"I hadn't thought of that, Lieutenant," the Doctor replied innocently. "But that's an excellent idea. I do have several selections which compliment my voice quite admirably, including a piece by Puccini that --"

 

"Doctor, the only way you're singing Puccini to my baby is if you remove her from my body so I don't have to listen."

 

The Doctor shrugged at B'Elanna's caustic statement. "I can also do Klingon opera, if you'd prefer."

 

"That's even worse," B'Elanna said. "Besides, our baby is three-quarters human."

 

Tom didn't quite get the correlation. "That doesn't mean she'll dislike Klingon opera."

 

"Do _you_ like Klingon opera, Tom?" B'Elanna asked pointedly.

 

"Well...opera is probably a bad example," Tom admitted. It was one of the few things Klingon he didn't have a taste for at all. Before he could suggest another, more enjoyable Klingon pastime, B'Elanna spoke again, sounding a little weary.

 

"Doctor, can we talk about this enrichment stuff tomorrow? It's been a long day, and I'm a little tired."

 

"Of course," the Doctor assented immediately. "It's also very important that you get plenty of sleep. I'll see you here at eight hundred hours."

 

The Doctor moved to his console and pressed a key. Tom watched the rotating spinal column disappear, and that gave him a thought. "Doctor, can we see a complete image of the baby?"

 

B'Elanna had been about to turn around, glad that the public scrutiny and endless if well-meaning congratulatory plaudits of the past few hours were over and eager to finally escape to the privacy of her and Tom's quarters. But Tom's question stilled her.

 

"I suppose I could extrapolate her appearance from her genetic profile," the Doctor said.

 

Tom looked at B'Elanna, and she shook her head emphatically. "I'd rather wait and be surprised."

 

"You're not the least bit curious?" Tom asked.

 

"Of course, I'm curious," B'Elanna said. "But I'd still rather wait."

 

Tom frowned. "Okay."

 

B'Elanna sighed a little at his obvious disappointment. "That's my choice, Tom. If you really want to see her, I'll just leave first and meet you in the corridor."

 

Tom considered that for a moment. He really did want to see their baby. "Are you sure?"

 

B'Elanna nodded. "Yes." She had no reason to deny him that. She smiled faintly, and Tom squeezed her hand briefly as the Doctor turned to his console.

 

"Remember, this will only be an approximation," the Doctor said as his fingers moved quickly over the keypad. "I'll display her at six months of age. Ready?"

 

Tom glanced at B'Elanna, who had walked away and was already approaching the door. "Ready."

 

A moment later the image of a baby appeared where the spinal column had been. The baby's back was to Tom, but her tiny body rotated slowly until he could see her face. He stared at the holo-image in a mixture of amazement and delight. This was -- this would _be_ his daughter. And B'Elanna's, as if that wasn't patently obvious. It took him several seconds to find his voice, but when he did, his words spilled out straight from his heart.

 

"She's beautiful."

 

^*^*^*^*^

 

B'Elanna shoved her tools into her bag, glad to be done with the plasma injector repair. It had taken her a little longer than usual, but she'd been distracted all morning. She still hadn't quite got used to the fact that she was pregnant, even though, despite the limited space in their quarters, Tom was already planning the "nursery." He'd talked last night until she'd told him to shut up and let her rest. His response had been to immediately offer her a glass of water, and then a backrub. Once she'd convinced him that she just needed to get some sleep, he'd contented himself with kissing her goodnight, telling her one more time that he was _really_ happy about her pregnancy (as if she didn't know that), and then assuring her that their baby would be fine (as if she didn't know that too). Still, she'd appreciated his reassurance and the unconstrained way he'd embraced the concept of impending parenthood. He'd fallen asleep next to her, with one arm draped loosely over her stomach, while she'd remained wide awake thinking about it all, her feelings warring between excitement and anxiety over the abrupt change to their lives, wondering if she was up to this new role -- and hoping that her doubts were natural. Or maybe she could chalk up her churning feelings to the emotional volatility the Doctor said she might experience.

 

She was happy, if still a little unnerved by the fact that there was a life growing inside her. She touched her flat belly, and then shook her head for perhaps the fiftieth time in the past twenty hours. Incredible. She was going to have a baby. A tremulous smile lifted her lips. A daughter. Her daughter, and Tom's --

 

_"Lieutenant Paris to Lieutenant Torres."_

 

B'Elanna jumped, startled out of her musings. "Yes?"

 

_"I'm just calling to see how you're feeling."_

 

B'Elanna let out an audible and purposely exaggerated sigh. "Is this going to become a habit now?"

 

 _"No...well, not more than once a day anyway. Father-to-Be's prerogative._ "

 

B'Elanna rolled her eyes at Tom's smug assertion. Early in their relationship she'd actively discouraged any over-attentiveness on Tom's part, one of several distancing tactics they'd both learned to overcome. She'd become more willing to accept his protective gestures, to a point anyway. And willing to admit to herself that sometimes it was nice having someone worry about her.

 

"I feel fine," she said. She put a slight edge in her voice that warned him not to push it. She did feel fine, and the procedure had been as painless as the Doctor had promised. "You certainly didn't have to hold my hand in Sickbay." She paused for a moment, then added softly, "But thanks anyway."

 

_"You're welcome."_

 

"I am glad it's over though." She was also glad he'd been there.

 

 _"Me, too,"_ Tom agreed. _"Now we know that our daughter will be absolutely perfect. By the way, have you noticed that it's almost lunchtime? I'm headed for the mess hall in a few minutes."_

 

B'Elanna hadn't thought that Tom might want to meet for lunch. "I have  
a...project I need to finish, so I'll probably just replicate a sandwich."

 

 _"Okay."_ Tom sounded vaguely disappointed, though they didn't lunch together all that often given how erratic their schedules could be on Voyager -- hers, in particular.

 

"I should be able to finish my shift on time for a change," she told him. "Then I plan on heading straight for our quarters."

 

 _"Why don't we do dinner in our quarters tonight,"_ Tom suggested. _"Just the two of us. After last night I think we deserve a private celebration."_

 

B'Elanna couldn't agree more. The few crewmembers who hadn't congratulated her last night had found her this morning. Most of the time she was glad to be part of what had become a very large family on Voyager, but she still needed her privacy, especially when it was so hard to come by. "I like that plan."

 

 _"Great!"_ Tom's reply was enthusiastic. _"Now, for the menu, how does a medium rare tri-tip, fava beans, Caesar salad, and seven-grain rolls sound?"_

 

"Well-balanced," B'Elanna said dryly. "But delicious."

 

_"I'll even do the cooking."_

 

B'Elanna snorted. "Don't strain your wrist on that replicator, okay?"

 

_"I'll be very careful."_

 

B'Elanna smiled at his droll tone. "I have to get back to work. I'll see you tonight, Flyboy."

 

"Okay, Chief," Tom returned. _"Or should I call you 'mommy' now?"_

 

B'Elanna's eyebrows rose. "Hey, to you I'm still the chief." In more ways than one, but Tom's more personal application of that title was something best left to more private surroundings. "Don't you forget it."

 

 _"Yes, ma'am,"_ Tom replied smartly. _"See you tonight."_ Before she could close the comm, he added, _"Oh, B'Elanna..."_

 

"Yes?"

 

 _"Chief engineer_ _and_ _mommy is a perfectly workable combination. I know you'll be great at both."_

The comm line clicked, and B'Elanna smiled faintly at Tom's sanguine assurance. She felt vaguely guilty that she hadn't told him where she was going. In Sickbay she'd been so insistent that she could wait to see the baby, and she really had been prepared to wait. She hadn't thought her curiosity could get the better of her, but that was before she'd heard Tom's words last night. Not just the words, but the way he'd said them.

 

She'd been about to step through the door when Tom had given the okay for the Doctor to display the holographic image of the baby. The immediate silence that followed had become charged with energy, and emotion. It seemed ridiculous, since she was hardly empathic, but she'd felt it. Then Tom had spoken those words.

 

"She's beautiful."

 

His voice had been filled with wonder, and with a depth of affection that had been a palpable force. She'd slipped out the door quickly, before she could give in to her urge to turn around and see for herself what had provoked Tom's delighted reaction.

 

When Tom had joined her in the corridor a few minutes later, he'd respected her wishes and hadn't said anything about seeing the baby. But she couldn't miss the smile on his face, or the lilt in his voice, or the contented glow that had radiated from him. Though it had been her choice, she'd felt a tiny bit left out. She'd spent much of this morning imagining what their baby looked like. Finally she'd decided that she couldn't wait.

 

"Lieutenant Torres."

 

B'Elanna was startled for the second time in several minutes. She suppressed a glare as she took the PADD Vorik offered her. She skimmed his work and then signed off on it. Vorik wasn't the most innovative engineer, even for a Vulcan, but he was thorough and exact. She rarely needed to correct his work, which she appreciated.

 

"I'm leaving a little early for lunch," she told him as she returned his PADD. "You're in charge until thirteen hundred hours."

 

Vorik looked at her curiously. "Are you feeling well?"

 

B'Elanna frowned. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

 

"It is unusual for you to take an extended

lunch break. I know that human females frequently experience nausea in the early stages of pregnancy, due to fluctuating hormonal levels."

 

"And Klingon females sometimes fly into a rage at a moment's notice and rip apart entire rooms due to their fluctuating hormonal levels," B'Elanna noted sharply. "Have you seen me do that?"

 

Vorik's eyebrow rose. "No, Lieutenant."

 

"I'm fine, Ensign," B'Elanna told him, knowing she'd overreacted. But she didn't like the idea of anyone assuming her ability was compromised. "Or I would be if everyone would quit asking if I'm fine. Pregnancy is not an illness."

 

"It is not," Vorik agreed impassively. "It is a naturally altered state of being that requires temporary lifestyle adjustments."

 

"I wouldn't count on that," B'Elanna snapped, then turned on her heel and strode out of Engineering, leaving Vorik behind. It wasn't like she had any intention of exposing herself to high doses of radiation or something equally foolhardy, but she also wasn't going to back off any of her duties as chief engineer just because she was pregnant. If people were already thinking differently, she'd nip that perception in the bud right now. Like Tom had said, why couldn't she be both chief engineer and mother, without compromising either role?

 


	4. Legacies I: Act 3

Act 3 

 

Three minutes later, B'Elanna stepped inside Holodeck one, and her focus immediately returned to her purpose at hand. She looked at the hologrid surrounding her. She'd tell Tom tonight, she decided. He'd no doubt be happy that she shared his knowledge, though he'd tease her for succumbing to curiosity. She'd take that as her due.

 

"Computer, access medical file for B'Elanna Torres, authorization Torres Beta Four."

 

The computer responded immediately. _"File accessed."_

 

"Access fetal genetics file and display projection of the baby."

 

_"File accessed. Displaying projection."_

 

The baby appeared a meter away from B'Elanna. She was curled in an almost fetal position, and her small body rotated slowly. Though the baby's back was to her, B'Elanna studied the perfectly-formed body, the tiny arms and legs, and the fine, silky hair on her head. A slow, wondrous smile lit B'Elanna's face. She had envisioned the baby with Tom's blonde hair, but she didn't mind their daughter's dark hair. She would have a bit of her mother in her, too --

 

B'Elanna's smile faded as the baby's face came into view. She stared in confusion for several moments at the clearly defined ridges on the baby's forehead, and her heart started to pound in her chest.

 

How was that possible? The baby was only one-quarter Klingon. B'Elanna had assumed their daughter would look much more like Tom than herself, that she would look human. Instead, she looked just like B'Elanna.

 

She looked Klingon.

 

"Computer, still projection."

 

B'Elanna thought frantically. It didn't make sense. Something must be wrong. Maybe the Doctor had made a mistake with the genetic profile. Though the Doctor never made mistakes, she grasped at that explanation.

 

"Computer, verify genetic profile. What are the percentages of human and Klingon genetic makeup?"

 

_"Genetic profile verified. The projected baby is the progeny of Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres and Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris, as indexed. Genetic makeup is seventy-five percent human and twenty-five percent Klingon."_

 

"Then why does she have forehead ridges?"

 

_"Forehead ridges are a characteristic of her Klingon genetics._ "

 

"She's three-quarters human!"

 

Though B'Elanna's last angry outburst wasn't a question, the computer was programmed to follow a line of thought and respond, if a response was deemed appropriate. _"Klingon genetic traits typically remain dominant through three to four generations."_

 

Dominant. B'Elanna stared at her daughter, seeing nothing beyond those forehead ridges, the clear and indelible brand of her Klingon heritage. Tom's words rang in her head again, and the tone of his voice-awestruck, delighted, so completely sincere.

 

"She's beautiful."

 

Beautiful. A memory flashed into B'Elanna's mind unbidden:

 

_/She stood impatiently in front of the door, as was her habit when it was time for her father to get home. Her mother had repeatedly chastised her for it, telling her that her impatience wouldn't get her father home any faster, but B'Elanna didn't care. Her daddy would be walking through that door any minute, and she wanted to be here..._

_The door slid open, and she flew toward him. "Daddy!"_

_She was in his arms almost before he'd crossed the threshold. As always, he tossed her in the air as she shrieked in delight, then caught her again in his arms and smiled widely at her. "How's my beautiful little girl?"_

_She giggled, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Fine, daddy. I learned two more alphabets today, Bolian and Vulcan."_

_Her father smiled at her mother, who had just walked into view, and then grinned at B'Elanna. "We have not only the most beautiful little girl in kindergarten, Miral, but the smartest."_

_B'Elanna beamed, and hugged him tightly. "I love you, Daddy."_

_She felt her daddy press a soft kiss against her hair. "I love you too, Bella."/_

 

B'Elanna came abruptly back to the present. She felt unaccountably cold. She hugged herself, and stared at her baby's image. Her daughter wasn't _exactly_ like her. Her daughter had more human genes, and maybe that would make a difference. Her forehead ridges might become fainter as she got older, and she would look more human than Klingon. It was a reasonable assumption...

 

"Computer, project baby at six years of age and display...belay that." B'Elanna had thought automatically in Kessik years, something she hadn't done in quite a while. "Project baby at twelve years of age and display image."

 

The computer automatically referenced the Federation standard based on Earth's rotation -- and Qo'noS, by coincidence, had a similar period of rotation. The image changed, and a prepubescent girl stood in front of B'Elanna. Her hair was dark and straight, her nose was slightly turned up, and her forehead ridges were even more prominent, just as B'Elanna's had become more prominent with approaching adolescence.

 

B'Elanna stared in dismay at the image. The likeness was greater than she could have imagined. Looking at the projection of her daughter was like looking into the mirror and seeing herself at that age.

 

B'Elanna closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. It had been so long. She didn't want to remember. She didn't want it to come back now. No. NO!

 

_/B'Elanna looked at the large duffel bag next to the door. Her father stood on one side of it, his expression grim. Her mother faced him, eyes flashing, but uncharacteristically silent. There'd been little of the usual yelling today, which had made it even worse. The tense, ominous silence had given B'Elanna an increasingly sick feeling. And now she knew why._

_Without saying anything, her face a mask of accusation and disgust, her mother pivoted and stalked out of the room. The sick feeling rose further in B'Elanna's stomach. Her mother wasn't going to stop her father from leaving. "Mommy!"_

_Her mother ignored her, not even bothering to reprimand her for using that childish title instead of "mother." She simply disappeared into the hallway. B'Elanna turned back to her father, who was reaching for his duffel. "Daddy, you don't have to do this!"_

_Her father shook his head, his expression defeated. "It's decided, B'Elanna."_

_"Not by me!" B'Elanna ran to him and grabbed the edge of the duffel bag as he lifted it. "I don't want you to leave!"_

_Her father sighed. "You don't understand..."_

_"Please!" B'Elanna was crying now, but she didn't care. This was her fault. She'd told him to leave, and now he was doing it. "Please don't leave! I didn't mean it!"_

_"B'Elanna, stop it!" Her father pulled the duffel from her grip, and put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "This isn't about you..."_

_"Yes, it is! You're leaving because of what I said!"_

_"It's nothing you said, B'Elanna. Your mother and I..." He sighed, and his gaze on her became gentle for a moment, the way she remembered it always used to be. Maybe he still loved her, and he'd stay, for her._

_"I can't stay, B'Elanna." He shook his head, his eyes on her sorrowful now. "Sometimes things... sometimes people just don't work out together."_

_Did he mean her? She didn't work out for him anymore?_

_"I'm sorry." He withdrew his hand from her shoulder and unexpectedly hugged her. "I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper._

_B'Elanna's heart filled with hope. "Daddy, I'll be good. I promise."_

_"I know you will," he said, misunderstanding her. He pulled away and pressed the door release. Then he looked back at her, his lips pressed tightly together and his eyes bright. She wanted to beg him again not to go, but her voice choked in her throat. She could only plead silently,_ *Don't go, Daddy. Please, please...*

_"I'll write," he said, his voice wavering a little. Then he turned and stepped quickly out the door._

_B'Elanna watched the door close behind him, and she stood there for a long time, tears still running down her cheeks. The same thoughts ran through her mind over and over again as if her will and her silent, desperate promises would make the door open again._ *I love you, daddy. I'll be good. I won't argue and lose my temper. I'll be less Klingon. I'll be anything you want me to be. Just come back. Come back.*

_Through it all, the door stayed closed. He didn't come back that day, or ever again./_

 

B'Elanna blinked, and then forcibly pushed those memories away. Her vision was misted by the moisture in her eyes, and she shook her head once, vehemently. She realized that she was shaking. Stop it, she told herself, STOP IT.

 

B'Elanna looked at the young girl in front of her. Tom had seen their baby, and he thought she was beautiful. He loved their daughter already, that much B'Elanna could tell from his joy last night. Though he didn't say it often, B'Elanna knew he loved her too. She didn't doubt his sincerity on either count, but she knew from experience how quickly it could change, and how one day it could all be gone.

 

B'Elanna knew that correlation wasn't completely reasonable or fair, but her own past experience was vivid in her mind. She didn't want her daughter to go through the kind of pain she had. Her own mixed genes had made her life so much more difficult at every step, and had dictated how people had reacted to her -- even her own father. It had made her different from everyone else, a curiosity, abnormal.

 

B'Elanna grasped at that last thought. Of course. Her own hybrid physiology had always been a medical issue. How often had it caused difficulties, or delays in diagnosis or treatment? If there was a way to avoid that kind of potential complication, it could only benefit the health and well-being of her child.

 

B'Elanna glanced at the projected holoimage of her daughter, then looked away. She only wanted to protect her child. There was nothing wrong with that. She needed to talk to the Doctor immediately.

 

"Computer, end display and close file."

 

The image winked out behind her and B'Elanna strode purposefully out of the holodeck, certain in her conviction.

 


	5. Legacies I: Act 4

Act 4 

 

"You're overreacting!"

 

B'Elanna glared at the Doctor. "No, I'm not! Everything I said is true. Medical treatment for someone with mixed genes is more complicated. And she'll be susceptible to twice as many diseases as she would be if her genes were all from one race."

 

"Technically, that may be true," he admitted. "But you are attaching much more significance to any potential complications than they merit."

 

"Even if it's a small possibility, if the risk can be eradicated, then I want it to be!"

 

"What you're suggesting -- genetic resequencing -- would completely change her identity. That's a drastic and unnecessary step to take simply to avoid 'possible' health complications that will likely never materialize. There's no reason to believe your baby will be anything less than perfectly healthy, as she is right now."

 

"What if she doesn't stay that way? What if she gets ill?"

 

"Then I have her genetic data on hand, and quite a few files on Klingon-human treatment regimens," the Doctor told her. "You weren't the first Klingon-human hybrid, you know. Though I also have _your_ extensive file, which will be most helpful, considering your shared genes."

 

"Those files still can't answer every possible problem she could encounter. Hybrids are unique..."

 

"Lieutenant, I have access to over a thousand years of human physiological and medical data, yet unknown conditions still occur in humans for which there is no immediate answer. It is impossible to account for every eventuality, no matter what one's genetic makeup."

 

"But it _is_ more difficult to deal with the medical needs of a hybrid," B'Elanna insisted stubbornly.

 

The Doctor waved his hand. "It's a simple matter of recalibrating my instruments."

 

"You didn't say it was simple the first time you had to recalibrate them for me." B'Elanna made her point almost triumphantly. "In fact, you were annoyed that I would require more specialized care than anyone on Voyager because of my mixed genes."

 

The Doctor stammered a little. "Well, perhaps I did grouse a bit at the time," he admitted. "My bedside manner used to be somewhat...primitive, before my behavioral subroutines evolved." Before she could dispute his use of the past tense, he added reassuringly, "Meeting your medical needs is hardly more difficult than meeting anyone else's on Voyager. Easier, in fact, than Seven's or Icheb's, with their residual Borg components."

 

" 'Hardly more difficult' is still _more_ difficult," B'Elanna said.

 

The Doctor sighed, wondering what it would take to convince her when she insisted on taking everything he said so literally. He decided to try a different tack. "I think you're looking at this the wrong way, Lieutenant. There are advantages and disadvantages to every situation. You've never experienced any serious health problems because of your mixed genes. In fact they are essential to your well-being, as we found out during that Vidiian incident. They've given you additional strength and resources to better endure certain conditions. You've recovered faster from both injuries and parasitic invasions than the average single-species person. And you were naturally more resistant to the Borg nanoprobes than Commander Tuvok or Captain Janeway."

 

Though she glared at him for mentioning that period he knew she'd rather forget, it was true. Her genetics had done half the battle of undoing her physical assimilation. "Some of the traits endowed by dual genetic makeup --- redundant organs, built-in genetic resistance to twice as many parasitic and disease vectors -- are very beneficial. And if you want another example of that, just look at Naomi. She's half-human, half-Ktarian. She's barely had a cold all her life."

 

B'Elanna frowned. "We're not talking about Naomi; we're talking about my daughter; and I don't think you're listening to me."

 

The Doctor was of the opinion that B'Elanna was barely listening to _him_. He didn't know how to further reassure her. "Lieut..." he softened his voice. "B'Elanna, I am a Doctor -- your Doctor -- and I'm promising you that your baby will be fine. It's natural to worry a little when you're pregnant, but your baby's health is more likely to be adversely affected by your heightened anxiety right now than by her mixed genetics."

 

B'Elanna took expected offense at that. "Because I want what's best for my baby?"

 

"I want the best for her too, Lieutenant," the Doctor said sharply. "I'd hope you could believe that, and trust my medical judgment."

 

B'Elanna had the grace to look chagrined, and the Doctor relented slightly. "Since you are so concerned, I will study the data you suggested, on one condition."

 

B'Elanna's expression shifted between hopeful and suspicious. "What condition?"

 

"I want you to take a supplement that will regulate the biochemical fluctuations in your body."

 

"This isn't about that."

 

"Maybe not, but your anxiety level right now is very high. As I said before, emotional volatility can be a common side-effect of your body's adjustment to the hormonal changes, and the effect is intensified by your Klingon and human metabolisms striving to find the right biochemical balance."

 

"If I was fully human, I wouldn't experience this emotional volatility," B'Elanna said pointedly.

 

"I wouldn't count on that," the Doctor muttered under his breath. He said more volubly, "Biochemical fluctuations in fully human and fully Klingon pregnancies can also cause emotional volatility. I've heard it happens even in Vulcan pregnancies," he added, lowering the volume of his vocal subroutine as if one of that species might suddenly appear, "...although that is a closely-guarded secret."

 

B'Elanna didn't react to his attempt at humor, but she didn't argue the point any further. "You can add the supplement to my regimen tomorrow."

 

Though her agreement was grudging, the Doctor happily accepted it. "Excellent. I'll look over the data, and I will think about what you said. But please, think about what I said too."

 

B'Elanna nodded curtly, and strode toward the door.

 

"Lieutenant."

 

B'Elanna stopped and turned around.

 

"I forgot to ask. Have you discussed these concerns with your husband?"

 

Her face immediately changed, and since the lieutenant's expression often answered a question before she ever uttered a word, her reply was only a reiteration. "No. I wanted to get your opinion first."

 

"I suggest you discuss this with him at your first opportunity. Any decision regarding your child's health or medical care, now or in the future, must be decided by both of you, although I'm sure you're aware of that."

 

"Of course," B'Elanna said evenly. "I'll talk to him. I'm sure he'll want what's best for our daughter, just as I do."

 

On that cryptic comment she strode out the door. The Doctor watched her leave, then walked around his desk and sat down. He looked at the screen of his computer console, but he didn't really see the data he'd been working on when Lieutenant Torres had stormed into Sickbay. He hoped she really would consider everything he'd said, but he had a strange feeling that they'd talked around her real concerns. The "feeling" was intuitive, based on his personal knowledge and nearly seven year history with B'Elanna Torres, but it was a method of reasoning his self-adapting programming now allowed.

 

A stored memory subroutine flashed across the Doctor's holographic matrix, an image of B'Elanna Torres, fully human after the Vidiians had split her in two genetically. She'd been sitting on a biobed in Sickbay, clearly devastated at the thought of her Klingon genes being reinserted again. It was one of the first times his holographic subroutines had recorded and internalized an empathic response to emotion, in that case, to extreme distress.

 

The Doctor recalled Lieutenant Paris's face the previous evening, when he had viewed the image of his baby daughter. The lieutenant's expression had been exultant. He'd clearly had no qualms about his baby's obvious Klingon traits. In fact he'd appeared delighted. But Tom Paris had never had the slightest negative feeling about his wife's Klingon heritage, as far as the Doctor knew. From that, the Doctor could certainly predict the pilot's reaction to the idea of changing his baby's genetic makeup.

 

He'd be vehemently against it.

 

The Doctor hoped Tom would be able to reassure B'Elanna, and that they'd work it out together. He had made a promise to study the data, however, and he would do so, though he was certain there would be nothing present  
that could change his mind. Genetically, baby girl Torres-Paris was already perfectly sound in every way.

 

^*^*^*^

 

Captain Janeway found B'Elanna in the chief engineer's office, studying a PADD intently. Janeway hadn't used any particular stealth in entering the office, but B'Elanna's attention was so focused on what she was doing that she apparently hadn't heard the door slide open and closed.

 

"B'Elanna."

 

B'Elanna jumped, and dropped the PADD on her desk.

 

"I'm sorry," Janeway said. "I didn't mean to startle you. Whatever's on that PADD must be fascinating."

 

To Janeway's surprise, B'Elanna looked a little flustered. "Yes, uh...I was just working on my propulsion idea."

 

Janeway sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. A week ago B'Elanna had given her a brief and very vague synopsis of her new propulsion theory. "No need to look as if you're doing something you shouldn't be. If your idea works out, we just might get Voyager home sooner rather than later. Consider your research part of your on-duty assignments."

 

B'Elanna nodded, and pushed the PADD in question aside. "Yes, ma'am."

 

"I do need the warp core report though."

 

"Oh..." B'Elanna sorted through the PADDs that were routinely piled on her desk and plucked one out without hesitation. "Here it is. The diagnostic revealed no irregularities."

 

"That's no surprise," Janeway said as she briefly skimmed the data on the PADD B'Elanna had handed her. After a few moments she dropped the PADD back on the desk, and looked at her chief engineer. "I know you've probably heard this several times today, but considering your visit to Sickbay this morning, I'm compelled to ask -- how are you feeling?"

 

B'Elanna sighed audibly. "I'm fine. Really."

 

"Good," Janeway said. "And don't worry, this isn't where I ask if you need to take more time off, or if you want to transfer some of your duties to Lieutenant Carey. I know you well enough to know that you have no intention of spending your pregnancy sitting on a couch eating bonbons." In fact, she knew her chief engineer wouldn't accept any limitations that weren't medically necessary.

 

B'Elanna smiled faintly. "The couch is out, though I wouldn't refuse the bonbons."

 

Janeway grinned back. "Good choice. By the way, I know I offered my congratulations last evening, but I do want you to know how truly happy I am for you, B'Elanna. And for Tom."

 

B'Elanna looked a little disconcerted for a moment, though she replied sincerely, "Thank you, Captain. I know Tom and I didn't exactly clear this with you, but it was a bit of a surprise to us, too."

 

"I'm not a student of biology, but I must admit I assumed Tom and you would need medical assistance to conceive."

 

"We thought so too," B'Elanna said ruefully. "We did discontinue our contraception boosters when we got married, so we were open to the idea of having a family. But the odds against natural conception in our case were so high that we assumed it would happen much later, if at all."

 

Janeway smiled. "Instead it happened sooner."

 

B'Elanna nodded. "I hope you don't mind."

 

"Why would I mind?" Janeway asked, though she could guess what B'Elanna was going to say.

 

"Some people might think these aren't the best conditions in which to raise a child. And this is a Starfleet ship --"

 

"It _is_ a Starfleet ship, but we're also in a unique situation out here." Janeway paused. "Though I must admit, when we were first stranded in the Delta quadrant I was glad no one wanted to immediately start raising families. It was difficult enough just to survive from day to day, and to mold ourselves into one integrated crew. We've done that very successfully. In fact we've become more than a crew. We're a community now, and I certainly don't expect any of you to postpone your personal lives forever, or deny yourselves the opportunity to have children."

 

B'Elanna cocked an eyebrow. "Will you still say that if there are a dozen kids on Voyager in the next few years?"

 

Janeway chuckled at B'Elanna's question. Though the romantic relationships among the crew had tended to be casual in the early years, as time had passed and everyone on Voyager had settled in for the long haul the number of serious liaisons had inevitably grown. There were a dozen permanent couples among the crew now, and several more she suspected were headed that way. She knew it was hardly out of the realm of possibility that some of them would decide to follow Tom and B'Elanna's example. "We've managed to adapt to every other change that's been thrust upon us," Janeway pointed out. "As to whether it's wise to raise a child under these circumstances, Naomi is happy and well-adjusted, and the children we rescued from the Borg did well while they were here. So we'll adjust, whether it's just one baby, or a dozen more to follow."

 

B'Elanna nodded, looking marginally relieved.

 

Janeway studied B'Elanna for several moments. She couldn't help noticing B'Elanna's preoccupation, though maybe it wasn't surprising that her chief engineer was feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment. "It must be a little intimidating to know that you're now nurturing a new life so completely dependent on you."

 

Some emotion crossed B'Elanna's face -- a flash of guilt maybe -- but it was gone so quickly, Janeway wondered if she'd imagined it. "I didn't mean to make you feel more anxious, B'Elanna. It's a big responsibility, but I don't doubt you can handle it."

 

"I hope so."

 

"I know so," Janeway told her reassuringly. "I have to admit I'm a little bit envious too. I've always wondered how it would feel to know there's a baby growing inside your body."

 

"It feels...strange," B'Elanna said softly. "It doesn't seem quite real yet."

 

"Well, I'm sure it will seem real the first time she kicks," Janeway said.

 

"I guess it will..." B'Elanna paused. "How do you know the baby is a she?"

 

"Tom mentioned it. I hope that was all right."

 

"We agreed to keep that just between us, since everyone found out about the baby so quickly." B'Elanna's tone was one of resignation. "If he told you, he's probably already told everybody on the ship."

 

Janeway knew Tom tended to disseminate information freely in general, but he always respected a matter of protocol or a confidence. "Tom came into the ready room to deliver a report, and it slipped out. He didn't say anything on the bridge, now that I think about it, even though he was exuberant today, to say the least. I won't say anything to anyone else until it's common knowledge, but I'd say your husband is afflicted with Proud Father Syndrome at the moment and barely able to contain it."

 

"Tom does tend to get carried away," B'Elanna said. "At least until the next new thing comes along."

 

Janeway sensed an undercurrent of anxiety beneath B'Elanna's facile remark. She spoke equally casually, "Oh, I don't know about that. Tom may flit from hobby to hobby, but the things that are central to his life keep their place. Like flying. And his relationship with you." B'Elanna's expression flickered at that. "And he's already completely smitten with his daughter, so you don't have to worry about that either."

 

"I'm not worried," B'Elanna said quickly.

 

"Is something else bothering you?" Janeway asked.

 

B'Elanna met Janeway's astute gaze. "The baby may need to undergo another procedure."

 

Janeway frowned. "I got the impression from Tom that your baby was healthy now that her spine is realigned."

 

"There could be other problems in the future..." B'Elanna stopped abruptly, and began rummaging through her PADDs. "The Doctor isn't sure yet."

 

From B'Elanna's tone it was obvious she didn't want to talk about it, though she was clearly anxious. But Tom wasn't anxious at all. Whatever the Doctor has said, Janeway thought, perhaps B'Elanna had taken it more seriously than the Doctor had intended.

 

"B'Elanna, it's natural to worry when you're pregnant," Janeway said gently. "Or so I've heard. But, as my grandmother used to say, there's no use in borrowing trouble. You can trust the Doctor's judgment, and if any problems do crop up, I know he'll take care of them. Whatever his personality deficits, his medical skills are without peer."

 

B'Elanna didn't smile at Janeway's sardonic assessment of the Doctor, but she nodded in apparent agreement. "I know."

 

Janeway hoped so. She stood. "I have to check back in on the bridge before I go off-duty. Isn't your shift almost over too?"

 

"I just have a few things to finish before I go," B'Elanna said, glancing at her pile of PADDs again.

 

"When you're finished, enjoy your evening, Lieutenant," Janeway said as she moved toward the door. Then she stopped and looked back at her chief engineer. "B'Elanna, if you ever want to talk, friend to friend, you do know I'm available, don't you?"

 

B'Elanna gave Janeway a startled look, but she nodded slowly.

 

"I know I don't have a lot of experience in this particular area, but I am more than willing to listen."

 

"Thank you, Captain," B'Elanna said softly. "I'll remember that."

 

Janeway slipped out the door, hoping B'Elanna would remember it, and maybe even act on it.

 

 


	6. Legacies I:  Epilogue

Epilogue 

 

After a quick walk through main Engineering, and a few casual greetings to those on duty there, Janeway headed back to the bridge. Her mind was still on her chief engineer as she approached the turbolift. Obviously B'Elanna was feeling some unease about her pregnancy, though she'd seemed to accept it calmly enough last night. The full reality was probably sinking in now, and B'Elanna was having first pregnancy jitters. Janeway could understand that it might take a few days for her to completely adjust to the unexpected change, even if that change was a positive one.

 

Tom, however, seemed to have no hesitancy at all accepting the change. Janeway smiled as she entered the turbolift, remembering how animated he'd been all day. She was glad he had so few reservations about his new role. She'd seen Tom cajole B'Elanna out of worry or doubt more than once with his optimism and good-humor; she was sure he would again.

 

Janeway leaned against the turbolift railing as the door closed. She'd been serious when she'd told B'Elanna that she was a little envious. Though she hadn't earnestly contemplated having a child at any previous point in her life, she'd always considered it an option open to her in the future. Although being a captain was a demanding and very full-time job, other Starfleet captains had found a way to have both a family and a career. She hadn't directly discussed the subject of children with Mark, but if they'd remained together, they likely would have at some point.

 

But that had been the case back in the Alpha quadrant, when her life had been proceeding along a more normal course. In the Delta quadrant, faced with decades of isolation and responsibility for the well-being of her crew, the possibility of ever having her own child had been all but taken away from her. Hell, she hadn't even been able to consider the possibility of a serious ongoing relationship.

 

The kiss she and Chakotay had shared in her office over a month ago flashed into her mind. They hadn't talked about it directly, because she'd been careful to divert the conversation to another subject whenever it might have surfaced. But she had thought about it, and hadn't come to any conclusion about why at that particular moment she'd allowed herself to indulge in something she'd so successfully convinced herself she didn't want anymore. And that she'd long ago convinced herself she couldn't have anyway.

 

Maybe it was because she'd deleted the Fair Haven program a few months ago. It had run its course of popularity with the crew, and even Tom had abandoned it, likely at B'Elanna's urging, since she'd never liked the program. Tom turning over the deletion code to her had pushed Janeway to a decision. The casual companionship of a hologram had been a poor substitute for a real companion, the Doctor and his more sophisticated self-awareness notwithstanding. Certainly Michael O'Sullivan, programmed charm or not, hadn't banished the persistent loneliness she increasingly felt in her life. Not the way a flesh and blood man who had his own mind, who listened to her but also argued with her, and who didn't indulge her opinions and whims simply because he was programmed to do so, could banish her sense of isolation.

 

Janeway shook herself out of her reverie and realized that she was still standing in a motionless turbolift. She chastised herself; she had things to do, more important things than contemplating something she shouldn't be  
contemplating. She straightened and addressed the computer.

 

"Bridge."

 


	7. Legacies II: Prologue

Prologue 

 

"Enter."

 

Chakotay stepped into the captain's ready room. "Are we still on for dinner tonight?"

 

"With personnel reports for dessert, of course."

 

"Of course." He couldn't stifle a grin as he took his accustomed seat in front of her desk. "Unless you would prefer working on baby shower plans instead. I understand Neelix has been polling everyone coming into the mess hall to come up with the best way to surprise B'Elanna."

 

Janeway took a sip of her coffee. "I've heard that surprising pregnant Klingons is one of the best ways to live dangerously."

 

"According to the Doctor, we have a window of opportunity between the third and sixth months when pregnant Klingons are uncharacteristically placid."

 

"Tell Neelix he'd better have the party soon, then, just in case."

 

"I'll consider that an official order," Chakotay replied, chuckling at her mock glare.

 

Janeway smiled back at him and confided, "You know, if this starts a baby boomlet, we might need to redistribute crew quarters in the very near future."

 

"I'm open to getting a roommate, Kathryn."

 

"I'll just bet you are," she drawled. Then she changed the subject, right on cue. "More important matters first."

 

As they discussed Voyager's latest supply requisition list, Chakotay managed to keep his mind on his work and a smile on his lips. It was only after he left her that he admitted to himself just how nice a roommate on a starship could be, especially if it were the right roommate. The right life mate, if he eventually had his way. But that second thought he'd keep to himself for now. As for the first pleasant thought, it was a small starship, but a very long trip.

 

 

 


	8. Legacies:  Act 1

Act 1 

 

The first thing B'Elanna saw when she walked into her and Tom's quarters at seventeen-fifty hours was the table. It was covered with a white tablecloth, and set with the red china they'd replicated shortly after they'd married. Two tall white tapers were lit, and a bottle was chilling in a silver bucket.

 

She hadn't been paying much attention to the time until Chakotay had stopped by Engineering. She'd used her promise to get home earlier as an excuse not to talk to him. Still, she'd completely forgotten about the private celebration Tom had planned for tonight.

 

"You're late."

 

B'Elanna turned as Tom came around the corner from the dressing area. He'd spoken without rancor, and he was smiling, obviously in a happy mood. "I'm sorry," she said as she dropped the several PADDs she was carrying onto the small stand by the door. "A couple of unexpected things came up in Engineering."

 

"No problem." Tom squeezed her shoulders and kissed her on the lips in his traditional greeting. She slipped her arms around his waist briefly before he pulled back and gave her a disarming grin. "I haven't actually fired up the replicator yet."

 

B'Elanna managed a small smile in return. "Nothing's spoiled then."

 

"Nope." Tom walked to the table and pulled the chilling bottle from the bucket. "I replicated a bottle of 2369 Dom Perignon, syntheholic of course."

 

He'd replicated the same vintage on their wedding night, and she'd definitely approved of the choice. She silently watched him uncork the bottle and pour the champagne into two fluted red glasses.

 

"I was just going through the computer's database on baby furniture," Tom said, indicating the console on the desk with a small jerk of his head. "I found a really nice antique cradle. That's the first thing we'll need to get, either a cradle or a bassinet for her to sleep in when she's born."

 

B'Elanna nodded weakly in agreement as Tom walked toward her again, glasses in hand. "There are dozens of other things we'll need too, but we'll have plenty of time to rearrange our quarters and collect it all. Here."

 

B'Elanna took the glass he offered her, aware again of the sheer enthusiasm that lit his face when he talked about preparing for the baby. For a moment wanted desperately to feel that too, to be consumed with anticipation, to be thinking of only those kind of innocuous plans...

 

"A toast," Tom said, lifting his glass. "To our daughter. May she grow up happy and strong, and may her life be as wonderful as we can possibly make it."

 

B'Elanna hesitated for only a moment before clinked her glass against Tom's. That was exactly what she wanted for their daughter too. She took a quick sip, then walked to the table and set her glass down. "Tom-"

 

"What's wrong?"

 

B'Elanna turned to find Tom looking at her intently. "Nothing's wrong  
exactly..."

 

"B'Elanna, this morning you were a little nervous, but you were happy. Now  
you're...not." Tom frowned. "Are you feeling okay?"

 

B'Elanna took a deep breath. It was now or never. "I'm fine. But the baby may not be."

 

Tom stared at her, clearly nonplused. "What are you talking about? This morning the Doctor said she was perfectly healthy."

 

"She is healthy, _now_. We need to consider another procedure to make sure she stays that way."

 

Tom slowly set his glass down on the table, his expression troubled and wary. "What procedure?"

 

His question gave B'Elanna the opening she needed. What was important was that Tom understand the risks inherent in their daughter's mixed genetics, and the necessity of this procedure to ensure her good health. B'Elanna began to tell him what she and the Doctor had discussed, ignoring the stab of her conscience as she deliberately left out most of the Doctor's objections.

 

Tom listened carefully to B'Elanna's explanation, but he was still completely bewildered when she finished. Her conclusion didn't make sense, and he didn't know what to think about the Doctor. "Why didn't the Doctor say something to me, if he's seriously concerned about this?"

 

"He's still working on the data. But once we tell him that we're both in agreement  --"

 

"I'm not in agreement," Tom said bluntly. He shook his head vehemently and stalked across the room, frowning at the starstreaks outside their window. Then he turned and saw B'Elanna's irate expression. He deliberately took a conciliatory tone. "This doesn't make any sense. Why would her mixed genes be so detrimental to her health? Your health has always been fine. Better than fine, in fact."

 

"Every case is different."

 

"Maybe," Tom conceded. "But even if there are some minor problems, there's no way that altering her genome so drastically could be necessary. There are also ethical restrictions involved --"

 

"Not if the alterations are therapeutic," B'Elanna said sharply.

 

"Nothing you've said convinces me it would be justified for her health," Tom said. Not even close, and he couldn't understand how the Doctor could even be thinking about altering their daughter even for a moment. He took several steps forward and put a hand on B'Elanna's shoulder. She was stiff and unresponsive, her expression unyielding.

 

"B'Elanna..." he massaged her muscles gently, trying to figure out how to reassure her. "Maybe you misunderstood the Doctor. Even if he's researching the data, it's probably just as a precaution. He wouldn't consider such a drastic measure unless there was no other alternative. Right now our daughter's healthy. Considering your condition, it's natural to be   
worried..."

 

B'Elanna shook his hand off her shoulder. "I'm sick and tired of everyone telling me I 'don't have to worry,' as if I shouldn't care about my daughter's welfare! And now you're doing it, too? Don't patronize me, Tom!"

 

Tom sighed, frustrated. "I'm not patronizing you, B'Elanna. But you're blowing this out of proportion."

 

"Are you a Doctor, Tom?"

 

Tom stared at B'Elanna, momentarily surprised at her sarcasm, then annoyed. "No, B'Elanna, I'm just a lowly medic," he said, his tone equally caustic. "But I do know that what you're proposing would change our daughter completely -- her personality, her appearance, everything about her."

 

B'Elanna shook her head. "She'd still be our daughter, even if she looked less Klingon."

 

"But she wouldn't be..." Tom paused, registering what she'd just said. "How do you know what she looks like?" he asked, though he immediately realized the answer. His eyes widened. "You _saw_ her."

 

B'Elanna's expression was defensive. "So what if I did?"

 

"I'm glad you saw her, B'Elanna," Tom said gently. He'd been hoping she'd give in. He'd wanted her to share his joy at seeing their daughter...

 

Except that B'Elanna didn't share his joy. Finally -- belatedly -- it all came together for him. "That's it, isn't it? You never thought about gene resequencing _until_ you saw her."

 

"That has nothing to do with it," B'Elanna snapped.

 

"The hell it doesn't! You don't want her to look Klingon!"

 

Her expression told him that his accusation was on the mark, though he certainly felt no satisfaction knowing it. He'd thought she'd moved beyond this, and had truly begun to accept herself. She'd taken comfort in her last meeting with her mother in Grethor. She'd even decided, albeit reluctantly, to write back to her uncle on Qo'noS. So why was this an issue again? "I don't get it."

 

B'Elanna turned away, quickly enough that her arm unintentionally knocked one of the glasses of champagne off the table. She seemed barely aware of it as she paced to the bed and back. When she looked at him again, her face was set. "You don't know what it's like to be a...mongrel."

 

The way she said that word stabbed at his heart. "B'Elanna, you're not --"

 

"I've been called that, Tom," B'Elanna told him harshly. "By humans and Klingons. Do you think I want that for my daughter? Do you think I want her to always have it thrown in her face that she's different from everyone else-or for her to never feel like she belongs?"

 

Tom regretted that B'Elanna had felt that way once, but it scared him more that she could still feel that way. "B'Elanna, I know your childhood was difficult. But you _do_ belong here on Voyager. There are lots of people here who are different from everyone else -- Neelix, Chell, Seven, Icheb, Naomi -- and they're all accepted here. Our daughter will be too. In fact, if you want to see what our daughter's life will be like, just look at Naomi."

 

B'Elanna was silent for a moment, and Tom hoped she was considering his argument. Then she asked pointedly, "And what about when we get home?"

 

Tom started to say it wouldn't happen for a long time, but he knew now that B'Elanna's latest project might get them home many years sooner than they'd expected.

The funny thing was, when she'd told him briefly about it after the last data transmission a week ago, he'd almost told her not to try so hard. Glad as he was to be in contact with his family again, he didn't have a strong desire to rush back to the place where his life had completely unraveled, or to trade his life here for a more uncertain future in the Alpha Quadrant.

 

But that reluctance had absolutely nothing to do with his daughter, as Tom would have told B'Elanna. She spoke again before he could, perhaps taking his brief silence as accordance, "Don't you want to give our child the best opportunity possible to be happy?"

 

Tom sighed. "Of course I do, B'Elanna. To me that isn't changing who she is, and turning her into someone else. How can she have the best opportunity possible if _she_ doesn't even exist anymore?"

 

B'Elanna's eyes narrowed. "You're twisting this, Tom," she said angrily, though there was a tired edge to her voice now. "But you're not going to change your mind, are you?"

 

Tom shook his head, and answered truthfully, "No." He couldn't do it. "I can't consider something I think is completely wrong."

 

B'Elanna's face shuttered, and Tom could literally feel her withdrawal. "Then there's nothing more to talk about."

 

"Yes, there is --"

 

"You got what you wanted," B'Elanna said coldly, turning away.

 

She was wrong. He hadn't gotten what he wanted at all. He wanted her to be as happy about the baby she was carrying as he was, and to accept their child wholeheartedly. "B'Elanna..."

 

She sat down stiffly on the couch and stared out at the stars, not acknowledging him. Part of him wanted to go to her and comfort her, but an equal part of him was angry with her. He wanted her to see what he saw when he looked at their baby, and it hurt that she could reject the daughter he was already coming to love. He wished he completely understood why, but he also knew B'Elanna wasn't going to talk to him right now. If he forced her, it would just turn into a shouting match. At the moment his own emotions felt too raw to deal with that.

 

"I'm going out for a while. It will give us both time to...think."

 

Though he'd spoken quietly, he knew she'd heard him. She didn't respond. He looked at her rigid form for several seconds, feeling frustrated, angry, and confused. Then he turned and walked toward the door.

 


	9. Legacies II:  Act 2

Act 2 

 

B'Elanna wanted to shout, or throw something, but this wasn't a simple clash of tempers where they had a rousing argument that cleared the air between them, and then made up with sex and soft words. So she ignored Tom when he said he was leaving, and drew more deeply into herself.

 

When she heard the door open she had a momentary impulse to turn around and ask him not to leave. If she did, she knew he'd stay. Instead she remained silent as the door swished closed again.

 

She turned then and glared at the door. One of the things she'd always admired about Tom was the fact that he stuck to his convictions, and refused to bend to anyone else's will, even hers. But right now that trait infuriated her. The one time she asked his support, he refused to give it.

 

She knew she wasn't being completely fair, and that Tom wasn't disagreeing with her to hurt her. He was truly happy with every aspect of their daughter. He didn't mind his daughter's Klingon attributes right now, but what about later?

 

Another memory flashed into B'Elanna's mind, of the camping trip she'd taken with her father shortly before he'd left for good, and she heard his voice clearly again.

 

_"B'Elanna's changed lately...She's become moody, unpredictable, difficult, just like her mother...Everything's a fight...I'm not sure I ever had the constitution to live with one Klingon, and now I'm living with two of them."_

 

Her father had been talking to her uncle, but she'd overheard his words, words that had made her realize how he really felt about her, and explained why he'd left two weeks later and had never looked back -- because she was too Klingon. B'Elanna jumped up from the couch, and strode over to the small stand by the door. She rummaged through the several PADDs she'd brought with her to camouflage the one that mattered. She pulled that one out and stared at its blank screen without turning it on.

 

Maybe all the research she'd done and scenarios she'd considered over the past few hours would become moot. Once the Doctor studied the available data and her baby's genome, he might find a medical problem that would prompt him to make the changes she'd requested.

 

B'Elanna winced. Was she actually wishing her baby ill? She touched her stomach lightly. No, she didn't mean it like that at all.

 

"I just want the best for you," she whispered. "I just want to protect you."

 

She knew Tom thought he was protecting their daughter too, and she wanted to trust that response in him, to believe that everything would be fine, and that history wouldn't repeat itself. She wanted to let it go, but she wasn't sure she could.

 

She walked to the bed and sat down. Then she turned the PADD on and brought up an image -- the result of the data she'd been manipulating covertly all afternoon. Deep in thought, she stared at the image and considered her alternatives.

 

^*^*^*^

 

_"Uh-oh,"_ Harry thought, as he stepped into the mess hall for his Beta shift dinner break. Tom was sitting in the corner of the mess hall, morosely dragging a fork through some sort of limp gelatinous mass congealing on the plate in front of him. Four glasses, all but one of them empty, were lined up in the table's trough. For Tom to be here like this, with clear evidence that he'd been here for some time, meant his nice, romantic dinner with B'Elanna must not have worked out as planned.

 

Harry went to the replicator and with great deliberation punched in his request for macaroni and cheese with pleeka rind/tomato sauce. As his dinner materialized, Harry walked slowly to the beverage server, carefully pouring himself a glass of fruit juice before turning in Tom's direction. He wasn't going to be able to delay talking with him any longer. Strolling casually towards Tom's table, Harry tentatively inquired, "What is that stuff? From the smell, it must taste as bad as it looks."

 

Tom glanced up at his friend. "You've got that right. It's something Neelix conjured up in a weak moment of nostalgia. He must have been pining over the lost joys of Leola Root Surprise."

 

Harry grinned. Leola root was an ingredient that was now mercifully unavailable to the Talaxian cook unless he replicated it; since it could no longer be grown in Hydroponics. Harry's eyes traveled to another table, where Icheb was avidly studying a PADD, sipping from a glass of Borg "nutritional supplements" that looked suspiciously like a chocolate milkshake.

 

"Do you think it's a coincidence that the leola root mysteriously stopped growing when Icheb came on board?" Harry asked.

 

That drew a chuckle from Tom. "If it isn't, we all owe him a week's worth of replicator rations and our eternal gratitude."

 

Harry laughed along with Tom. "I'm glad we can still grow pleeka in hydroponics. I've developed quite a taste for it, and so has Icheb, I've noticed."

 

"Pleeka Rind Casserole. After having it for a week at a time when I was out of rations, I'm sorry I can't enjoy it the way the two of you do." Tom emptied the half-filled glass in front of him. "Are you done for the night, Harry, or is this your lunch break?"

 

"It's lunch. I'm on for the full shift tonight."

 

Tom sighed. "Too bad. I was thinking about borrowing your couch tonight."

 

"You know what Mulcahy said after he used it when his cabin was being repaired."

 

"That he'd rather sleep on the floor than on the lumpiest couch in the Delta Quadrant? Yeah, I heard. Beggars can't be choosers, though."

 

"OK, what is it this time, Tom?" Harry asked.

 

"It's the same old thing, Harry. That Klingon-phobia she has about herself."

 

"She's a little sensitive about being part Klingon, that's all."

 

"A _little_ sensitive! Every time I think she's finally over it, something else triggers it all over again. This time it's 'our child, the science lab project.' Let's strip out all the Klingon."

 

Harry understood what had happened immediately. "You know she had it rough as a kid. She wants your baby to have an easier time."

 

"You're not saying I should let her have her way, are you? Change the baby just because of a few ridges on the brow?"

 

"Maybe you can let her know you're willing to listen to her concerns. If you talk it over, she might see she's over reacting. And there was that one medical problem already. Maybe you do need to make sure everything will be all right to appease her."

 

"Appeasing isn't in a Klingon's vocabulary. Or a half-Klingon's -- even if she won't admit it."

 

"Well, my couch is your couch, if you're really that desperate. It's there, even if I'm not."

 

"Lumps and all," Tom answered with an exaggerated grimace.

 

"Lumps one way or the other."

 

"That's the truth."

 

"But at least in one case the lumps are worth it, aren't they?"

 

Tom sighed. "Yes. But we argue a lot, Harry. Sometimes it worries me. A little arguing and then a little making up are fine for us, but I don't think our child will understand."

 

"Maybe you can work on fixing that while she's pregnant. Both of you are a little on edge with the baby coming."

 

Harry never got a reply, since Icheb picked that moment to approach their table and ask, "How is Lieutenant Torres feeling?"

 

"She's okay," Tom said guardedly.

 

"And how is your daughter doing?"

 

"Daughter? How do you know the baby's a girl? "

 

"It's a girl!" Harry, said delightedly, too swept up in Icheb's revelation to notice the tensing of Tom's jaw.

 

"Lieutenant Torres requested information on gene therapy and resequencing."

 

Tom's agitation seemingly disappeared, which Harry did notice, with trepidation. On those rare occasions when Tom became dangerously angry, the calmer he seemed to those who did not know him well -- and Icheb had surely never seen this side of Tom. Harry himself hadn't seen it for well over a year.

 

"Treatments? For what?" Tom asked, his voice becoming quieter, but more intense with every word he uttered.

 

"Lieutenant Torres called me to ask several questions about gene resequencing techniques. She said she was working with the Doctor to correct several more problems he had detected, and that your daughter might need genetic treatments before she's born."

 

"Did the Doctor also call you about this?"

 

"Lieutenant Torres said she had offered to consult with me while he pursued his own research. Am I in error?"

 

"It's somebody's error, all right," Tom said, so stiffly and quietly that Harry could barely hear the remark.

 

"Removing so many of the baby's Klingon genes is radical procedure. I thought you knew about it..." Icheb's voice trailed off in confusion.

 

Tom shook his head. "Oh, I knew about it. I just didn't think she would really... wait, Icheb. What time did my wife ask you about this?"

 

"At 1508 hours..."

 

"That explains it." Tom visibly relaxed. "Don't worry about this anymore, Icheb. We've talked it over since then. The baby is fine just the way she is."

 

Icheb looked even more puzzled. "You did? Lieutenant Paris, you were here eating dinner when I arrived in the mess hall. Lieutenant Torres called me with another question just before I walked in. I didn't hear you use your comm badge."

 

The glasses on the table rattled alarmingly as Tom jumped up, his eyes glaring sharply blue in contrast to his face, which had suffused an alarming shade of red. As Tom wordlessly ran out the mess hall door, Harry confused Icheb even more when he said, under his breath, "I'll clean up, Tom. And that couch -- I'll make sure it's ready, just in case."

 


	10. Legacies II:  Act 3

Act 3 

 

As Tom pounded down the corridor towards their quarters, he tried to calm himself. Most of the time, he was the one soothing B'Elanna's temper; but this time, he was the one who needed it. When he started to gain control of his emotions just outside their door, however, the image of his daughter's face shimmered into his mind. A surge of love mingled with fear flooded into his mind. He wanted her just the way she was, the girl who, he was sure, would look just like her beautiful mother someday. He couldn't let her be taken away from him.

 

When Tom burst into their quarters, he saw no immediate sign of B'Elanna. He cursed softly. He should have called to make sure she was still here. Just as his hand went for his commbadge, he noticed the light under the bathroom door.

 

His hand dropped to his side and he sat heavily on the bed, feeling immensely relieved. She was here. For a moment he'd thought -- well, he didn't know what he'd thought, but he'd been unsettled by her absence.

 

He sighed, and the PADD resting in the middle of the bed caught his attention. He glanced at the activated display with trepidation, after what Icheb had told him. A young girl of perhaps twelve or thirteen was pictured on the display. With her blond hair and blue eyes, she looked a lot like him.

 

Icheb's words flashed into his mind. "Lieutenant Torres requested information on gene therapy and resequencing."

 

Tom's heart sank. It was just as he'd feared. B'Elanna obviously had been doing more than just thinking about redesigning their daughter's genes, she'd actually started working on it. If she'd already gone this far, how much further was she planning to go?

 

The bathroom door slid open at that moment, and B'Elanna stepped out, wearing a camisole and silk boxers. Tom was relieved that she obviously didn't plan on going anywhere tonight.

 

B'Elanna turned and saw him, and her gaze went immediately to the PADD in his hand.

 

"B'Elanna --"

 

"What are you doing?" she asked icily.

 

"What am _I_ doing?" Tom waved the PADD at her. "What is this?"

 

B'Elanna strode forward and snatched the PADD from his hand. "This is none of your business, and if you weren't reading something private --"

 

"None of my business?" Tom shouted. "Now my own daughter is 'none of my business,' B'Elanna?"

 

B'Elanna stepped back slightly. "I didn't mean that. And this is just a PADD. I was reviewing the data, which I have every right to do, in case --"

 

"In case what? You know there's no medical justification for this."

 

"We don't know that for sure yet."  

 

"That's not what you told Icheb."

 

"I needed his help! What was I supposed to tell him?"

 

"B'Elanna, this data you've collected is moot. The Doctor would never agree to making these changes, not unless he was reprogrammed or something..." Tom stopped when he saw the sudden change of expression on B'Elanna's face. He couldn't believe it. "B'Elanna, you weren't going to..."

 

"No!" B'Elanna blurted out, but from the way she immediately shifted her eyes away from him, Tom knew the truth.

 

"You were, weren't you? You were going to rewrite the Doctor's ethical subroutines so he would change our baby."

 

B'Elanna started to shake her head in denial but stopped. Staring past the table, still set with the dishes for their uneaten supper, and at the blank television set, B'Elanna massaged her forehead as she collapsed onto the couch. "I don't know," she admitted dully.

 

"Were you even going to tell me?"

 

"I don't know!" she said again, her voice rising in anguish. "I don't even know if I really could do it or not, Tom. Don't you see, I just want to protect my baby!"

 

Tom stood over her silently for several moments. Finally he sat down next to her. "B'Elanna, talk to me. What is this really about? What could make you  want to do this to your daughter?"

 

"I want her to be accepted, to be happy..."

 

"You can't completely control that, B'Elanna. It doesn't matter who she is, you can't force everyone to accept her or to love her. She'll have to do that on her own."

 

"I can make sure..." B'Elanna stopped.

 

"Make sure what?" Tom prodded. "Tell me."

 

After a long, pregnant pause, she whispered, "I can make sure her father always loves her."

 

Tom was speechless. When he found his voice, he sputtered, "I _do_ love her. Do you actually think I'd love her any more if she were blond and blue-eyed, and completely human?" He shook his head. "There's no fine print on the guarantee for me. I already love her. Why do you think I wouldn't?"

 

"I'll bet my father said that once, too. And look what happened!"

 

"Please, don't judge all fathers by what your father did, B'Elanna. Or by mine, for that matter. I'm not going to be like either of them."

 

B'Elanna gave him a piercing look. "You and your father may have had your differences, Tom, but he loves you. He always has, and you _know_ it."

 

Tom was a little taken aback by her indignation. Then he realized that her words were true. He hadn't broken his habit of being blasé, even cynical, whenever he spoke of his father, maybe because he was still afraid their fragile reconnection would disappear again. But he did know the truth.

 

"You're right, I do know it," he said quietly. "His disappointment with me never had anything to do with how I look -- which happens to be like my mother. The gulf between us was caused by his reaction to what I did, and what I became because of it."

 

"And he never stopped loving you, Tom, no matter how much you both disappointed each other. So you can't possibly understand. My father loved me when I was little -- but later, when I started to look and act too Klingon, it was a different story."

 

"I know your father left, B'Elanna, but that doesn't mean it was because of you. Your mother and he --"

 

"You don't know why he left."

 

"Your mother and he drifted apart, the usual reason one parent leaves, and the marriage dissolved."

 

B'Elanna shook her head vehemently. "He left because...I told him to leave."

 

Tom frowned. That sounded ridiculous, but he could see that B'Elanna was serious. "That's hard to believe."

 

"Believe it!"

 

Tom listened while B'Elanna poured out her story about the ill-fated camping trip with her uncle and three cousins that B'Elanna had hoped would bring her and her father closer together. Instead, she'd found out he could barely tolerate living with one Klingon, let alone two.

 

As her tale painfully unfolded, Tom was reminded forcefully of the fully-human B'Elanna who had stumbled over part of the story when they'd been held by the Vidiians. His own B'Elanna had never looked more like that distressed human being than she did at this moment. He tried to think of something that might comfort her.

 

"Sometimes people say things they don't really mean just to let off a little steam," he interjected. "Or they don't mean it the way it sounds."

 

"You weren't there, Tom," B'Elanna said harshly.

 

That was true. He hadn't been there. If he had been, he might have punched John Torres in the face for being so dismissive of his daughter's feelings afterward, as B'Elanna recounted her father's reaction.

 

"That was when I told him if he couldn't stand living with Klingons, then he should leave. Two weeks later, that's just what he did."

 

B'Elanna was hunched over, staring unseeing again at the black screen of the television set. Tom, dismayed at the bleakness of her voice, touched her arm gently. "That's coincidental, B'Elanna. He was already unhappy in his marriage. I'm sure he didn't leave just because you told him to."

 

"How do you know that?" B'Elanna cried out softly.

 

"Parents split up all the time. That doesn't mean he stopped loving you."

 

B'Elanna looked at Tom, her gaze as empty and tormented as her voice. "Then explain to me why he never called or wrote me again, why he obviously didn't care anymore whether I was alive or dead."

 

Tom couldn't explain; there was no good explanation for a man to do that to his child. Instead he thought fleetingly that one punch wouldn't be nearly enough, and aiming for the face would be higher than the man deserved. But B'Elanna's father was back in the Alpha quadrant, out of his reach, so Tom did the only thing he could do; he slipped his arms all the way around B'Elanna and hugged her tightly. He was thankful she didn't pull away. Instead she rested her head on his shoulder. He felt her body shake and detected the sensation of dampness on his shirt -- odd, to say the least, since B'Elanna rarely cried. He started to stroke her back when the obvious correlation between the story she'd just told him and her dismay over their daughter's Klingon genes finally hit him. He was the one who pulled away and stared at her in comprehension.

 

"You think I'll leave? Is that it?"

 

B'Elanna looked back at him, her eyes moist. "He did."

 

"I'm not your father, and you're not your mother. You can't compare their relationship to ours."

 

"We fight a lot, like my parents did."

 

"I think I said once that I like scraping shields with you, B'Elanna," Tom said lightly. "You're father obviously didn't. And didn't you tell me once your parents had a passionate, whirlwind courtship? We had anything but -- the whirlwind courtship part, that is." His lips quirked. "We _have_ had our passionate moments," he amended, "but we took a much longer, more torturous path to marriage."

 

He'd hoped his comment would coax a smile out of B'Elanna, but her expression remained somber. Abandoning the humorous approach, he added earnestly, "What I'm trying to say is, we've worked through a lot of our issues already. We've pretty much seen the worst in each other. We knew exactly what we were getting into when we got married, far more so than your parents probably did. And I can assure you that I wouldn't still be here if I didn't really want to be."

 

"Neither would I," B'Elanna said. "But we can't know the future."

 

"Not entirely," Tom agreed. "I can't make absolute promises, as uncertain as our lives are on Voyager. But I can promise you that I will never leave you under my own power." He lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. "I'm sure we'll still have disagreements, and even fights. That's part of any marriage. But we can disagree and still love and respect each other. And that's the other thing that won't ever change -- the fact that I love you, B'Elanna. I know I don't say it very much, but I'll say it more -- I'll say it over and over if you'll just believe it."

 

"I do believe it," B'Elanna said. "Saying the words doesn't mean everything. When I was little my father told me he loved me all the time, but he left anyway."

 

"I'm sorry about the way he treated you, B'Elanna. He was an idiot, and it was his loss." He frowned, and his hand slipped from her cheek. "I know I've had my idiot moments too, but that doesn't mean I'd walk out on my own daughter someday. She's my daughter, too, B'Elanna. My flesh and blood. Nothing is ever going to make me walk away from her. I'll love her just the way she is, and I hope you can too."

 

B'Elanna looked stricken at Tom's words and the resigned expression on his face. "I'm not saying _you're_ going to leave --"

 

"Yes, you are," Tom said with a small, sad smile.

 

B'Elanna wanted to think of a way to deny what he'd said, but couldn't. Wasn't that exactly what she'd been thinking, why she'd spent hours designing a child she thought he could love enough not to ever leave? She'd been telling herself she was only reviewing the Doctor's program parameters out of curiosity, "just in case," but she'd started laying the groundwork, preparing for that possibility. She wanted to believe it hadn't crossed her mind, but it had. She had rejected her daughter as surely as her father had rejected her by wanting her daughter to be someone else, just as her father had wanted her to be someone else. How could she have ever let things get so out of control in her own mind? She felt ashamed she'd let old childhood memories take over her emotions so completely.

 

B'Elanna picked up the PADD she'd dropped on the couch and looked at the child she'd designed, the one she'd thought would be more worthy of love than the child she was already carrying. With one quick press of a button she deleted the work she'd done. Then she looked at her husband. "Tom, I'm sorry --"

 

"For what?" Tom took the now blank PADD from her hand and set it on the coffee table. "You didn't really do anything."

 

She knew that distinction was a fine one. She hadn't actually acted, but the impulse had been there. "I don't know if you can understand, Tom, but I was never thinking about you, I was thinking about my father. I do know that you'll never walk away from your daughter. I know that you'll be a wonderful father."

 

"And you'll be a wonderful mother, B'Elanna." He put a hand over her abdomen. "Our baby is perfect just as she is, and beautiful, just like her mother."

 

B'Elanna smiled tremulously. "You really think so?"

 

"Think? I know so! She's gorgeous. I'm going to have to beat men away from her with a stick someday, you wait and see."

 

B'Elanna chuckled. "She is kind of cute isn't she?"

 

"Kind of?" Tom asked. "If we have two or three more, and they're all just like you, that will be fine with me too."

 

B'Elanna shook her head. "Let's just get through one first."

 

"Okay, but I mean it. I'll be happy living with two Klingons, or three, or even six Klingons. In fact, when we get back to the Alpha quadrant, we can move to the Klingon homeworld if you want."

 

B'Elanna wrinkled her nose. "That's okay. We don't have to go _that_ far. Besides you'd probably get challenged to bat'leth fights twice a day."

 

"So?" Tom grinned. "I still keep up with my practices in the bat'leth program. I've gotten pretty good, in fact."

 

He'd often invited her to join him in that program, and B'Elanna had almost always refused. She wondered how good he really was. Knowing how he hard he worked on anything he really enjoyed, she wouldn't be surprised if he'd gotten quite good indeed. "That may be, but I still think we can find somewhere else to live."

 

Tom shrugged. "Okay. We can live on Earth, Mars, a deep space station, another starship, wherever. The place doesn't matter, as long as you're with me -- and our brood of kids of course."

 

B'Elanna laughed softly, but she felt warm knowing that Tom was entirely serious.

 

Tom changed the subject slightly. "Speaking of the bat'leth, you haven't joined me in that program in a long time."

 

"I wonder what the Doctor would say about me taking up Klingon martial arts right now."

 

"True. Maybe we should save that for after she's born. But we were going to study the sacred scrolls, too, and we've never gotten around to it. I don't see why the Doc would have any objections to that. I think we _should_ get around to it, for our daughter's sake. I want her to appreciate her heritage -- all of it."

 

B'Elanna nodded. It was something to think about. "We'll talk about that later. At the moment, I have other things on my mind."

 

Tom smiled back at her, a familiar glint in his eye. "Tomorrow, then. I've got a few other things on my mind right now, too." He leaned forward and whispered, "I love you, B'Elanna. And I love our daughter, too, no matter what. Just to make sure you haven't forgotten yet."

 

She hadn't. And she wouldn't.

 

^*^*^*^

 

Tom fiddled with the controls for a few seconds before entering the holodeck. This program wasn't totally new; he hadn't wanted to fritter away a lot of spare time constructing one from scratch when B'Elanna needed him. Besides, this program prompted fond memories. He had helped B'Elanna put it together a long time ago, to mark a special day. That the day had turned out to be a pivotal day in their lives just made it that much better.

 

As far as he knew, B'Elanna had never actually finished experiencing this program, but that no longer mattered to him. What he had always wanted the program to convey to B'Elanna did matter, very much. Despite taking steps in the right direction, she always seemed to pull back before fully embracing her total self. After her experience with her mother's -- spirit? image? hallucination? -- whatever had happened on the Barge of the Dead, B'Elanna had appeared to accept her Klingon heritage more completely than she actually had, judging from what she'd considered doing to their baby. Try as he might, he couldn't ignore the feeling that he had to share responsibility for what might have happened. Too many times when she'd needed his support, when she struggled alone with her feelings about herself and her heritage, he had thoughtlessly retreated to the holodeck or the shuttlebay. True, he'd always made an initial attempt to help her, but he'd put up little resistance to her rebuffs when he should have stood his ground. When he should have been there for her.

 

Going to the holodeck this time was different, though. It was research, like going to a library -- just a lot more fun than pouring over dusty paper books or squinting at a terminal. "Yeah, right, Paris," he murmured to himself with a rueful smile, as he continued punching data into the control pad.

 

Finally satisfied with the changes, Tom entered the holodeck. His nose was immediately assaulted by greasy smelling smoke, spilling out of a double row of sputtering torches, and the scent of wax from a multitude of flickering candles that, together, splashed light upon the walls of twisting cavern passageways. Tom's mouth quirked a little as he remembered sneaking in those small but critical details when he'd helped B'Elanna formulate the logarithms for the original program. He recognized the junction where he'd once encountered a very unhappy hologram, punched in the eye by a certain very reluctant celebrant of the Day of Honor. That brought a smile to his face, too.

 

At last he came to a cavern that was carved into a room. A small, high window hollowed into the rock let in a modicum of murky natural light. Along the wall beneath the window, a series of shelving units were fitted with slabs of wood, set on an angle, to form diamond shapes. Each diamond held a a number of rolled parchment scrolls. In front of the shelving, a heavy wooden table held a pair of spirals fashioned of roughly hammered silvery-gray metal, each fitted with a half-dozen candles. The table's rough-hewn surface was scarred and pitted, as if a warrior had once used it as a target for throwing his _d'k tahg_ and _mek'leth_.

 

The room was silent and empty. The one he had expected to find was not there.

 

After waiting patiently for a few minutes, Tom called out, "Is the librarian here?"

 

A figure dressed in long robes whirled into the room, the glare in his eyes flashing as brightly as the bat'leth he carried. "Librarian?" roared the Klingon. "Who slanders this holy place and invites a carved-out heart?"

 

"Whoops. Poor choice of words," Tom said, stepping back on his heels. "What I meant to say was, 'Are you the...spiritual guide who will help me with my research?' "

 

Mollified, the Klingon strode close enough to Tom to stare intently into the pilot's eyes. "And why does a human come here to do 'research'?" he asked belligerently.

 

At that moment, sneezing over dusty books or peering into a flickering terminal screen seemed a lot more appealing than they had an hour ago, but Tom quietly responded, "To keep a promise."

 

"What promise is this?"

 

"I promised my wife that we could study the sacred scrolls together. She is half-Klingon and... um... it's been a while since she studied them with her mother."

 

"I see. And this half-Klingon... have we seen her here before?"

 

"Uh, yeah. But a lot has happened since then."

 

"And you think _you_ could become her _DevwI'_?" The Klingon's low voice resonated with scorn. Obviously, B'Elanna's last visit was remembered.

 

Tom knew enough Klingon to correctly translate the Klingon term --'the one who guides.' "Yes, I do. With you to show me the way."

 

The hologram studied Tom closely for several more seconds, no doubt assessing Tom's sincerity. Tom stood erect and stared back into the Klingon's eyes unflinchingly. "And you think you are a warrior who is worthy of this sacred task?"

 

"I'm working on it," Tom admitted. Those dusty books were looking better all the time.

 

Tom's answer seemed to satisfy the Klingon, however. He carefully placed the bat'leth he held upon a stand near the table and said, "Come, sit down. Tell me what you already know of our rituals and beliefs."

 

"Is there a name I can call you, _DevwI'_?"

 

" _DevwI'_ will do."

 

Tom hadn't had anyone particular in mind, but his guide, his _DevwI'_ , looked considerably younger than he'd expected. He had instructed the computer to create a composite, based upon the characteristics of the known writers of the sacred scrolls, to personify their contents. The authors who had created the rituals and commentaries so important to the Klingon people apparently had never made it to grizzled, venerable sage. Since so much of Klingon culture and ritual was predicated upon the ways of warriors, who tend to live the sort of lives that land them in _Sto-Vo-Kor_ much earlier than, say, your garden variety librarian, perhaps Tom shouldn't have been so surprised.

 

The guide certainly knew his stuff, though. On several occasions, Tom was left to squirm uncomfortably as his guide discussed deeds of honor and duty, reminding him of times that his own had fallen far short of heroic Klingon standards, or even barely passable human standards. One mistake still pained him so much he could barely face it, even after all this time. Whenever he thought about honor, he could not fail to think of it -- so painful, he had tried to deny it happened to himself as much as to those to whom he had given the lie. Tom had paid a terrible price for it. Only when Voyager had become stranded in the Delta Quadrant had the opportunity to redeem himself become possible. Though he felt reasonably sure others thought he had met that challenge; sometimes he still struggled to believe it himself.

 

Tom's discomfort eased when the guide discussed the many ways a warrior meets the challenge to be honorable, whether enduring pain or torture in the name of duty, facing the unknown to increase knowledge, or even sacrificing one's life so that others might live. He had done all of these things since arriving in the Delta Quadrant. B'Elanna had, too, even though she usually shrugged off her own deeds as "just another engineering job," no matter how much risk to herself the task had entailed. Tom didn't know if the guide realized it, but Tom saw that following the Klingon "Way of the Warrior" was as important to him as it was for B'Elanna. A way to get her to accept that  
fact, though -- that still eluded him. Still, he felt confident he could overcome it, with time. That is, until...

 

"So, Thomas, son of Owen of the House of Paris, what Klingon traditions have you followed with your bride so far?" the _DevwI'_ asked.

 

Touchy subject. "We celebrate the Day of Honor as a special day." No need to let him know that the celebration was a personal sort of anniversary, not directly related to Klingons. "And, um. Well, we've worked out with bat'leths... sometimes... " He left out the fact that B'Elanna rarely joined him in that pursuit. He thought about the Klingon warrior romance novels they'd both read, but doubted that would qualify in this case. He frantically tried to think of something else to add to the pitifully short list, but his open mouth, unable to name any more examples, gave him away.

 

"Is that _ALL?_ " the guide cried out, incredulous.

 

"We haven't been married that long..." Tom began, then decided that reticence wasn't going to be of any help to him, or to B'Elanna.

 

"The truth is, my wife has a lot of painful memories from growing up half-Klingon on a world where she and her mother were the only ones in the neighborhood. That was tough enough, but B'Elanna and her parents also had... issues. Her mother celebrated the holidays and taught B'Elanna many Klingon rituals, but as a child B'Elanna didn't fully appreciate them. And she hasn't really felt comfortable enough to follow them much on Voyager, where she's the only one of Klingon blood...although I know they mean much more to her now..." Tom's voice trailed off. They did, he was sure of it, if only she would admit it.

 

Suddenly too restless to remain seated in his chair, Tom stood up and began to pace from one end of the room to another, his face carefully turned away from the guide. "A while ago B'Elanna had an incredible experience. She almost died in a shuttle accident. While she was unconscious, she experienced a vision that her mother had been condemned to Grethor. After she came to, she insisted we help her die clinically so she could go back and save Miral -- that's B'Elanna's mother -- and send her to _Sto-Vo-Kor_. We did it; B'Elanna saved her mother; and we managed to get B'Elanna back.

 

"At the time, I wasn't sure if her mother was dead. I always thought it was some sort of hallucination -- B'Elanna trying to accept her Klingon heritage, that sort of thing, you know? Since we've been able to exchange messages regularly with home, though, we found out Miral really did die on that day. Now I can't believe it was only a hallucination. That's too much of a coincidence. Or at least, I hope it wasn't a coincidence. I'd like to think that B'Elanna had that chance to patch things up between her mother and herself, that she helped her mother travel to _Sto-Vo-Kor_. B'Elanna isn't ever going to have a chance to make things right between them on this plane of existence, now that her mother's gone." Tom sighed as he confessed, "I'd actually promised B'Elanna I'd study the scrolls with her if she _didn't_ try to save her mother. I'm glad she didn't take me up on it. But last night, I promised again, to myself, that we were going to do it anyway. Study the scrolls together. Make Klingon traditions, as well as human ones, part of our family life."

 

His voice softened. "We're going to have a baby, _DevwI'_ , and these traditions, they're important; I know they are. Important to B'Elanna, sure, but even more so to our daughter. And to me. I haven't always been the kind of guy a nice Klingon girl brings home to mother. I've changed a lot, but I know I've got farther to go. I hope this can help."

 

Tom stopped his restless pacing. Slowly, he turned to face the guide, not sure what his reception would be. Tom had heard nothing more than a few grunts from the guide throughout his narrative. The guide looked at him thoughtfully, but not in anger, as Tom had half-expected. Slowly the Klingon stood up and walked towards Tom.

 

"Truth and honor are intertwined with each other, Thomas; and what I have heard from you now is surely the truth. It is as you say. You must observe the rituals to help your coming child to be strong in her Klingon heritage and to enrich your family life. I know a simple ritual that B'Elanna must surely have followed with her mother. From what you have just told me, the mother of your B'Elanna dwells now in _Sto-Vo-Kor_ , but the dead cannot rest unless the living remember their sacrifices and honor their memories."

 

As the guide described the traditional prayer to him, Tom breathed easier. This was right. It felt right. He knew he had done the right thing by coming here, for himself, as well as for B'Elanna.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: _d'k tahg_ and _mek'leth_ are two types of Klingon dagger.


	11. Legacies II:  Act 4

Act 4 

 

B'Elanna walked into the mess hall just before the dinner rush. She'd finished her shift on time today, with the intention of getting home early. Then Tom had called to let her know that he'd be working an hour late finishing his navigation reports. It wasn't exactly unusual for Tom to put off reports until the last minute, but she knew the events of the past couple days -- or, more accurately, what she'd put him through -- had contributed to his mind being otherwise occupied. It was definitely her turn to handle replicating dinner tonight, as soon as she found out why she'd been called to the mess hall.

 

Neelix was tending to a large, steaming pot on the stove, but he turned immediately as she approached and greeted her with a wide smile. "Lieutenant Torres! I was hoping you'd show up a little early for dinner."

 

"Actually, Tom and I plan to have dinner in our quarters tonight."

 

Neelix nodded sagely. "Ah, I understand. Still celebrating the wonderful news."

 

Finally celebrating the wonderful news was closer to the truth, but B'Elanna simply agreed with Neelix. "Yes."

 

"If you're considering names for your daughter, I think Alixia is a beautiful name."

 

B'Elanna knew Alixia had been his sister's name. "It is a beautiful name. I'll put it on the list."

 

Neelix looked pleased. "Oh. I guess you're curious about why I called you."

 

She was, and as Neelix turned back to the stove, she asked, "What is it this time? Oven coil conductors? Replicator circuits?"

 

"Nothing like that," Neelix replied, removing the kettle of hot water he always kept on the warmer. He rummaged for a cup. "I know you'll have to cut down on stimulants -- I remember Samantha Wildman complaining about that when she was pregnant. So I came up with a new herbal tea blend I think you might enjoy as a substitute."

 

B'Elanna was already a little annoyed that she'd have to give up coffee and raktajino, and she wasn't particular fond of herbal tea, particularly some of the "special" blends Neelix had concocted in his tea-making career. "I appreciate your effort, Neelix, but --"

 

"Don't mention it," Neelix said cheerfully, as he prepared the tea. "I prepared this blend especially to soothe the aches and stresses of pregnancy -- not that pregnancy is an affliction of course, but it can be a little exhausting. I used several herbs with restorative properties, including one from Rynax that is known to bestow a pleasant sense of calm and serenity upon expectant mothers."

 

B'Elanna started to tell Neelix indignantly that she'd didn't want to be treated differently because she was pregnant, but she stopped herself. Instead she accepted the steaming cup he offered her as the gesture of kindness and friendship she knew he intended.

 

Neelix watched her as she took a cautious sip. Her eyebrows rose at the strong, sweet taste. She liked it. "This is... good!"

 

Neelix beamed at B'Elanna's assessment. "I'll whip up a batch for you to keep in your quarters. I'm about to serve dinner, but I can get it to you later tonight."

 

"Why don't I pick it up tomorrow?" B'Elanna suggested. She didn't really want Neelix showing up at her and Tom's door tonight. "And thanks, Neelix. I really appreciate this."

 

"You're very welcome, Lieutenant," Neelix said. He clapped his hands together as if a thought had just occurred to him. "I'd better add this blend to my recipe database. At the moment, you and Tom are the only couple expecting, but who knows? There may be others following in your wake. I may as well be prepared."

 

B'Elanna smiled at Neelix's frank anticipation of such a potential development. "Could be," she agreed. "I see Chakotay over in the corner. I think I'll join him for a minute."

 

Neelix nodded, and turned his attention to the pot on the stove. It looked close to boiling over, and he scampered toward it, calling over his shoulder to her, "I'll have that blend for you tomorrow morning at breakfast."

 

B'Elanna watched Neelix wrestle momentarily with the pot before crossing to the other side of the mess hall. Chakotay was studying a PADD intently, but when she sat down at his table, he looked up and smiled. "Hello, B'Elanna. Or shall I start calling you 'mom'?"

 

B'Elanna gave him a mock scowl. She wasn't sure why everyone found variations of that question so amusing. "You and everyone else can call me Lieutenant Torres," she said sharply as she took a sip of her tea.

 

Chakotay wasn't fazed by her annoyance. "What are you drinking?"

 

"Neelix prepared a special blend of herbal tea for me."

 

"Really." Chakotay looked at the cup dubiously. "How does it taste?"

 

"Very good actually. And, according to Neelix, drinking it will give me a sense of calm and serenity appropriate for a mother-to-be."

 

Chakotay erupted into laughter, and B'Elanna speared him with a hard look. "Is that funny, Chakotay?"

 

Chakotay cleared his throat, though humor still lingered in his eyes. "I was just picturing you gliding calmly and serenely through Engineering, with a beatific smile on your face. I have a feeling the resulting shock and confusion would prevent any real work from being accomplished."

 

B'Elanna's lips twitched. "You don't have to worry about that happening."

 

"Good. I like our quick-tempered, dedicated chief engineer just the way she is." Chakotay voice held only genuine affection, and he studied her as he took a sip from his cup of coffee. "However, you are looking very pleased with yourself today. I take it you're completely happy with the idea of being pregnant now."

 

B'Elanna didn't miss the implication that she hadn't been happy about it all along. She remembered how she'd rushed past him last night in Engineering when he'd tried to talk to her. "I'm sorry I brushed you off yesterday."

 

Chakotay shrugged. "I'm used to it," he said, Truthfully. They both knew B'Elanna had a long habit of closing people out when she was troubled, even those closest to her. "I was worried about you though. You looked...upset."

 

"I _was_ upset about something," B'Elanna admitted. "But Tom and I worked it out. Everything's fine now."

 

Chakotay didn't press her for details. "Then I'm glad," he said. "For both of you."

 

"I _am_ happy about this baby, Chakotay," B'Elanna told him earnestly. "Very happy. Tom and I both are."

 

Chakotay reached out squeezed her hand. "That's all I wanted to hear." He released her hand and gave her a speculative look. "So, have you and Tom discussed names yet?"

 

B'Elanna groaned good-naturedly. "Not you too, Chakotay."

 

"I just thought I'd mention that the feminine version of my name is Chakotaya. Or Taya for short. Has quite a ring to it, doesn't it?"

 

"Oh, yeah," B'Elanna said dryly, hoping the sly grin at Chakotay's face meant that he was mostly teasing. She repeated what was becoming a mantra, "I'll add it to the list."

 

Chakotay was nodding, the grin still on his face, when his commbadge beeped.

 

_"Ensign Lang to Commander Chakotay."_

 

"Chakotay here."

 

_"Commander, that sensor ghost has appeared again."_

 

Ensign Lang, who was manning the helm for Beta shift, sounded uneasy, and Chakotay looked at B'Elanna. The sensor ghost had first appeared this morning. After a sensor recalibration, it had disappeared. Several subsequent sweeps had found no trace of it.

 

"I'll relay the message. Carry on with your duties, Ensign. Chakotay out."

 

B'Elanna tapped her commbadge. "Torres to Carey."

 

The reply was almost immediate. _"Carey here."_

 

"The sensor ghost is back. Let Seven know, and get a team to work on it. Do a level one diagnostic and _find_ the problem."

 

_"I'll take care of it. Carey out."_

 

Chakotay shook his head. "There's nothing like a sensor ghost to spook the crew."

 

B'Elanna snorted. "Nice play on words, Chakotay, but you know those things always turn out to be sensor glitches."

 

"Almost always," Chakotay agreed.

 

B'Elanna didn't like them either. Nothing was more annoying than something that stayed just out of the range of detection, but usually, it turned out to be a false alarm. "By tomorrow, the glitch will be gone, and so will the ghost."

 

Chakotay's attention was diverted as someone approached their table. "Hello, Naomi, Samantha."

 

"Lieutenant, I never got to offer my congratulations," Sam said as B'Elanna looked up. "I'm very happy for you and Tom." She squeezed Naomi's shoulder. "I'm not an expert, but having been through it, if there's anything you ever want to ask me, feel free."

 

"Thanks," B'Elanna said sincerely. "If it will help me escape some of the Doctor's expert advice, I'm sure I'll take you up on that."

 

Sam and B'Elanna shared a knowing smile before Naomi spoke. "Lieutenant Torres, I wanted to let you know that I'm available to babysit once your baby is born."

 

"Babysit?" B'Elanna echoed, meeting Naomi's eager gaze.

 

"I have a lot of experience. I helped the Doctor take care of the baby we rescued from the Borg, until we found her people again."

 

B'Elanna nodded. "I remember, Naomi." She regretted for a moment that she hadn't spent any time with the baby. She could have used the experience.

 

"So many people on Voyager helped take care of me when I was a child and taught me things, like Tom -- Lieutenant Paris -- teaching me how to fly a shuttle. I feel like it's my turn to give something back."

 

B'Elanna saw Sam's eyebrows rise at Naomi's words, probably at her daughter's past tense reference to being a child. B'Elanna was just noticing herself that Naomi was starting to blossom into a young woman, at an impossibly young age for anyone who didn't have Ktarian blood in her veins. Sam looked at B'Elanna and nodded almost imperceptibly.

 

"I know Tom and I will be happy to take you up on your offer when the time comes," B'Elanna told Naomi. "Thank you."

 

Naomi smiled happily. "When will she be born?"

 

"In about six months, give or take a couple of weeks," B'Elanna said. "That was the Doctor's best guess, anyway."

 

Naomi looked disappointed. "That long?"

 

Sam laughed. "It does take a while, Naomi."

 

Her daughter rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I _know_."

 

"In fact, you took over a month longer to be born than the Doctor originally estimated," Sam noted. She gave B'Elanna a wry smile. "Having a baby with a hybrid nature is a little more...adventurous than a normal pregnancy." Then she returned her gaze to her daughter. "But the payoff is worth it."

 

Naomi returned her mother's fond look, the previous moment of chagrin clearly forgiven. Then she grinned at B'Elanna. "Isn't being a hybrid wonderful?" she asked, giving B'Elanna no chance to answer. "I love being human and Ktarian, because I get to have the best of both heritages. I'm glad your baby's going to be special, too."

 

B'Elanna glanced at Chakotay, who'd been listening silently to the conversation. Then she smiled at Naomi. "So am I," she said softly. She meant that with full sincerity, which made her even gladder.

 

"Hey, here comes Icheb," Naomi announced. She motioned to the young man who had just entered the mess hall, waving him over. "Mom, can Icheb eat dinner with us? We want to talk some more about the Starfleet Academy entrance requirements."

 

Sam nodded, though her gaze on her daughter was sharp as Naomi greeted Icheb.

 

"Commander Chakotay, Lieutenant Torres," Icheb said, including them in the general greetings. "Lieutenant, I hope the genetic information I provided to you proved useful."

 

"It did answer my questions," B'Elanna said quickly. "I appreciate your help, but everything turned out to be just fine."

 

"I am pleased to hear that, Lieutenant," Icheb replied.

 

"The spinal procedure was successful, wasn't it?" Sam asked, looking mildly concerned.

 

"Yes," B'Elanna assured her. "My baby's completely healthy now."

 

Sam smiled. "I'm glad for you and for Lieutenant Paris. Have a nice evening, Lieutenant -- and Commander." She waved a hand at Naomi and Icheb. "All right, kids, let's go."

 

Icheb's eyebrow rose at Sam's form of address. He looked vaguely insulted, but before he could reply Naomi hooked an arm in his. They followed Sam toward the kitchen where Neelix had begun serving dinner.

 

Chakotay watched them depart and shook his head. "Give it another year, and I predict we're going to have two lovesick teenagers on board."

 

"Naomi's not a teenager," B'Elanna said automatically, though she realized on second glance that if Naomi wasn't there yet, she was right on the cusp. No wonder Sam was giving her daughter such apprehensive looks.

 

"Poor Sam," B'Elanna murmured, meeting Chakotay's astute gaze. "I'm glad human and Klingon maturation rates are so similar." She wanted as long a period as possible before she'd have to deal with her daughter's puberty. She remembered making her own mother's life very difficult at that time.

 

"I'd say Icheb's also well aware of Naomi's maturity," Chakotay said dryly.

 

B'Elanna frowned. "I haven't noticed him acting any differently." Though she honestly hadn't notice when Icheb had a crush on her a couple months ago, she had to admit to herself.

 

"That's because you're not a man," Chakotay said. He smiled at B'Elanna's irritated look. "Believe me, I've seen his eyes follow her. Not unlike the way Tom's eyes followed you for several months before he ever actually started pursuing you."

 

"Really?"

 

"Yes. I had the urge to punch him more than once at the time, hard. But I guess it turned out okay in the end."

 

B'Elanna smiled at Chakotay's blithe assessment. "Yes, it did."

 

Chakotay stood, picking up his cup and PADD. "I have to get going."

 

B'Elanna stood too. She'd finished her tea, and she wanted to get back to her quarters. "You're not eating dinner here tonight?"

 

"I'm having dinner with the captain," Chakotay said, as they both walked toward the doors.

 

"Again?"

 

Chakotay gave B'Elanna a sharp look. "Don't start."

 

"Are you bringing the cider, or is she supplying it this time?" B'Elanna asked innocently.

 

Chakotay sighed as he set his cup on the counter a distance away from where Neelix was filling plates for his waiting customers. "It's a work meeting. We need to go over next week's duty rosters."

 

"You two have to do that a lot, don't you? Most nights, in fact..."

 

"Goodnight," Chakotay said meaningfully. She was still smiling as he kissed her cheek. "If I haven't said it, I'm happy for you, B'Elanna. And for Tom."

 

"Thanks," B'Elanna murmured, though Chakotay was already striding past the line of crew waiting to fill their plates. She followed several steps behind, nodding to Neelix, who glanced up from his work and smiled. As she passed, she glanced at one of the plates being carried away from the kitchen, generously laden with some sort of stew. She wondered what she should replicate for dinner. Before she could come up with a menu plan, she nearly ran into Harry as he entered the mess hall.

 

Harry apologized immediately. "Hey, Maquis. Sorry --"

 

B'Elanna pulled him out into the corridor. "Did Tom talk to you at lunch?"

 

Harry looked surprised by her question, but he shook his head. "Tom didn't come to the mess hall for lunch. I think he had to finish a late report in Sickbay."

 

Though the two of them freely harassed each other, Harry didn't smirk as he usually would about Tom's tardiness. B'Elanna assumed it was because Harry understood the nature of Tom's recent preoccupation.

 

"I guess Tom and I have both had a few things to deal with over the past couple of days," B'Elanna said ruefully.

 

"Seems like everything's fine now," Harry said. "Tom was his cheerful self on the bridge today, and you look pretty happy."

 

B'Elanna smiled. "Everything is fine, Harry. Better than fine. Except that I have to ask you for a favor."

 

Harry looked at her curiously. "Shoot."

 

"Tom and I talked about it this morning, and we'd both like you to be our baby's godfather."

 

Harry's eyes widened, and he stared at B'Elanna mutely.

 

B'Elanna snorted with amusement after several seconds. "Harry, I hope you're speechless with delight."

 

Harry managed to stutter a few words, "Uh, well, yeah --"

 

"Why are you so shocked? You're our best friend. You've been there for us both through some pretty trying times. Who else would we chose?"

 

A brilliant smile lit Harry's face, and he gave B'Elanna an impulsive, hard hug. A moment later he pulled away and patted her arm as if he was worried he'd injured her. "Sorry."

 

"Harry, do you think I couldn't still slam you to the ground in a nanosecond, twist your arm behind your back, and make you cry 'uncle' four hundred times, all without breaking a sweat?"

 

Harry laughed at B'Elanna's irritated question. "I know you could. And, for the record, I'd be very honored to be your daughter's godfather, even if she'll probably be able to beat me up by the time she's three."

 

B'Elanna smiled, mollified. "Good. And she may not be able to beat you up until she's five."

 

"That's a comfort," Harry said with mock relief. Then he motioned toward the mess hall door. "You meeting Tom here?"

 

"No. We're going to try once again to have a private celebration in our quarters."

 

Harry smiled. "Make sure you disable the comm line into your quarters," he said, referring to the fact that B'Elanna got summoned more often while off duty than anyone else on the ship. "And have a good time."

 

"Thanks."

 

Harry started to turn toward the mess hall, then stopped. "Oh, one more thing..."

 

"You have a suggestion for the baby's name, or you want to start calling me 'mom,'" B'Elanna guessed.

 

Harry gave her a perplexed look. "No. Neither."

 

B'Elanna sighed with relief. "I knew there was a reason I'm so fond of you, Harry."

 

"Uh, thanks," Harry said, still looking confused. "I just want you to tell Tom that I'm really honored to be your baby's godfather. I promise I'll do a great job, and I'll teach her everything I know."

 

"You mean you'll make sure she's familiar with every Captain Proton episode you and Tom have ever programmed?" B'Elanna asked facetiously.

 

Harry grinned. "That too."

 

B'Elanna smiled and shook her head as Harry disappeared into the mess hall. Then she turned and headed home.

 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*

 

As B'Elanna entered their quarters, she realized immediately that Tom had beat her here. And from her first glance around she could see that he'd done so intentionally.

 

"What happened to those navigation reports?" she asked, as he walked toward her.

 

"I worked fast," he said.

 

Looking past him curiously, she noted that the toaster had been spirited away out of sight. A simple red banner hung in the corner, above the television set. A low table in the middle of the room bore a large candle which burned on a flat plate, set upon a table cloth that matched the banner. The only thing she acknowledged, however, was another object. "What's this? A bat'leth? I don't know if the Doctor is going to approve of me working out with you on the holodeck in one of your bat'leth programs."

 

He grinned. "This is a special one. This is an heirloom bat'leth."

 

B'Elanna laughed. "And where did you get hold of an 'heirloom' bat'leth out here?"

 

"I replicated it."

 

She laughed harder. "Some heirloom."

 

"Every heirloom was new once, B'Elanna. Just think of it as the first emblem of our house. Something for our daughter to take pride in."

 

B'Elanna picked up the blade gingerly. It was engraved along the edge of the blade next to the inner handle, in a flowing script version of Federation Standard that complemented the Klingon text alongside it: "The House of  
Paris," "B'Elanna, daughter of Miral," "Thomas, son of Owen." The weapon was classically proportioned, perfectly balanced, lethally beautiful. A fitting blade to pass on to their progeny.

 

"The House of _Paris?_ " B'Elanna asked dryly.

 

Tom shrugged, affecting nonchalance. "If you insist, we can use your last name."

 

Her father's name. B'Elanna had kept it for various reasons, but she preferred her daughter carry the name of her own father, rather than her human grandfather who would never be a part of her life. It was the best name for their "house" too, and for any progeny to come. "We'll use Paris."

 

Tom grinned, and B'Elanna didn't begrudge him it.

 

"We should hang this on the wall."

 

"I hope you don't mind, B'Elanna, but I took the liberty of inserting several hangers over the credenza. We can move them if it doesn't look right..."

 

"Let's try it." Carefully, with Tom's help, B'Elanna suspended the curved blade upon the wall and stepped back to examine the effect. "It looks good there," she admitted, a little grudgingly.

 

"Do you think our daughter would mind if the old man borrowed it every now and then?"

 

"Use your own blade on the holodeck, Tom. This one stays here."

 

Tom sighed dramatically. She wanted to punch him, or maybe bite him, but she felt an odd sensation that startled her. She pressed a hand to her abdomen. "Tom..."

 

Tom picked up on her distraction immediately. "What's wrong?"

 

"I felt something. A twinge, but I think it's gone now."

 

B'Elanna quit speaking as Tom turned and moved toward the dresser at a jog. He pulled open a drawer -- his underwear drawer -- and began tossing items on the floor. "What are you doing?" she asked.

 

Tom didn't answer her question. He pulled something from the drawer and was by her side again before she recognized what he was holding.

 

"A medical scanner? How did you --?"

 

"I took it from Sickbay," Tom said as he turned on the scanner. "I thought we should probably keep one here now."

 

"You're not planning on pulling that out every time I feel a little twinge, are you?" B'Elanna asked. It was as much a warning as a question.

 

"Well..."

 

B'Elanna jumped as she felt the sensation again. "There it is!" It felt like something was...moving...

 

Tom met her wide-eyed gaze, and they both stared at each other in astonishment. For several seconds before he confirmed what they'd both realized. "The baby is kicking."

 

"Isn't it too soon?"

 

Tom looked at her nearly flat belly. "Well, she is part Klingon." He turned off the scanner. "And with us for parents, I guess there's no chance she's going to be naturally timid, even in utero."

 

B'Elanna shook her head at Tom's grin. "I suppose not." Then she grabbed his hand as the baby kicked again and pressed it to the spot. They both smiled at each other foolishly, caught up in the wonder of the moment. Then Tom surprised her by pulling his hand away and wrapping his arms tightly around her. He kissed her soundly, then whispered in her ear, "I love you."

 

"Me, too," she murmured. She was about to follow up on Tom's action, but he diverted her attention by slipping his hand beneath her elbow and guiding her to the table where the candle burned.

 

"There's something else we need to do first," Tom said.

 

As she sank to her knees, supported by his hand steadying her arm as he knelt beside her, she had a hunch what he was going to suggest.

 

"The _DevwI'_ told me about the Prayer of Remembrance. It sounded like a good tradition for us to follow. Do you know it?"

 

"It's been a long time. My mother and I always prayed for my grandmother. L'naan, daughter of Krelik."

 

"L'naan. That's a very pretty name. So is Miral.”

 

"We'll add them to the list," she said with an exaggerated sigh, although she was not displeased. "If we're going to do this, shall we do it now?"

 

Without further discussion, Tom began, "Kahless... We implore you to remember those warriors who have fallen in your name. Lift them out of the cavern of despair and reveal yourself to them in all your glory." B'Elanna repeated the words with him, stumbling a bit, until he paused after saying, "Remember... "

 

She supplied what she thought would be the final words: "Miral, daughter of L'naan. Remember L'naan, daughter of Krelik."

 

She was wrong. Tom added three other names which everyone on the ship knew, although B'Elanna had never before heard them uttered by Tom. She was sure that no one else on Voyager ever had, either.

 

"Remember Brunolf Katajavuori. Remember Charles Day. Remember Odile Launay."

 

His voice broke on the last name, and the silence that followed was deep. She reached out and covered Tom's hand with her own, seeking out his face with her gaze. Tom's blue eyes, highlighted by reflections from the candle's flames and brimming with emotion, met hers. B'Elanna understood, as she never had as a child, what the simple words of the prayer truly meant. But more importantly, she realized that Tom understood them, too.

 


	12. Legacies II:  Epilogue

Epilogue 

 

Space, vast and impersonal, as far as eyes -- or sensors -- can reach. As the two who have formed a new family embark upon a personal ritual to strengthen the bonds between them, they are unaware that their starship, no more than a mere speck in the vastness, is not the only object following the same heading towards Sector 0-0-1.

 

Light deforms so slightly around the invisible gravitic anomaly that it could barely be detected by the most sophisticated means possible. If it were, it would register as a "glitch" in the systems of the vessel doing the tracking -- barely enough to raise suspicion.

 

Within the anomaly, light glows a sickly greenish hue. The voices of the beings are silent. They have no need to communicate in words, for they are linked in a far more intimate way.

 

They are the eyes, ears, and hands of one who never forgets anything, especially a defeat. One who desires above all things to conquer the crew of Voyager -- particularly its captain.

 

No reprieves this time. No escape.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Remember when the name 'Borg' struck fear in the hearts of everyone? When the Collective was not to be trifled with? Voyager's most formidable foe returns with a new method of attack. And this time, resistance really may be futile.

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the introductory note , the Paris and Torres marriage actually began in "Lineage," not in "Drive." In "Lineage," B'Elanna at last revealed to her husband a critical secret that had blighted her entire life, threatening to ruin both her marriage and her ability to become a loving parent. She needed to come to terms with her abandonment by her father, and with Tom's love and support, she did. Tom's stepping up and becoming a responsible husband in that episode was something we didn't want to lose. 
> 
> Prior to "Lineage," B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris often didn't act like a couple that had a future together. B'Elanna pushed Tom away whenever he threatened to get close, while Tom seemed to prefer going off with Harry, playing games on the holodeck, to spending time with his alleged girlfriend. After "Lineage," however, the two started to behave like a committed couple. 
> 
> B'Elanna's questioning of her Klingon heritage in "Lineage" bothered our group. Hadn't she finally laid that issue to rest by the end of "Barge of the Dead"? B'Elanna learned she'd rejected her mother's attempts to help her appreciate Klingon culture, but that her mother had always loved her. B'Elanna appeared to accept her Klingon traits better after that. However, it does not necessarily follow that B'Elanna would want her own child going through what she herself did. The rejection she suffered from her father was a terrible blow to B'Elanna's self-esteem. Learning to accept her mother's love didn't mean she didn't want to spare her daughter the pain of losing her father's. She wasn't giving Tom much credit, true, but until then, his behavior as a boyfriend had given her ample cause to worry about how much he'd be there as a parent to any child, not just one who was as visibly Klingon as she herself. 
> 
> Human (and, presumably, Klingon) development does not necessarily proceed in a straight line, like making a frontal assault when climbing a mountain. Especially when it comes to emotional development, it's a bit more like a spiral-a winding road encircles a mountain, where previous stages are revisited and the lessons learned and relearned until true independence has been reached. 
> 
> The two year old learns to make autonomous choices through the power of the simple word, "No," using it even when the child would be happier saying, "Yes." In adolescence, young people strike out on their own, making choices that can make a parent turn pale with fear. Young adults make independent choices for themselves and may eventually become parents themselves, guiding their own children on how to make choices. Ultimately, mature adults may have to make difficult choices for their parents who have lost the ability to act independently. 
> 
> At each step, we confront similar issues. Events as devastating as abandonment by a parent, which B'Elanna experienced, can and will have an effect on every succeeding stage. B'Elanna's appearing to "backslide" in "Lineage," therefore, is something which could almost be expected to happen. Tom's commitment to B'Elanna and their daughter was a very welcome development. 
> 
> That doesn't mean that everything that occurred in "Lineage" was okay with us. If it were, we would have included it upon the list of 7.5 canon episodes and would have gone on to write something else. We felt B'Elanna's reprogramming the Doctor to get what she wanted was a step too far, for starters. We also wanted to see Tom confront things about his own past which Voyager never really showed him doing. This episode provided us with the opportunity to do just that. We weren't about to let the chance slip by us.


End file.
